Oncoming Storm
by Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood
Summary: He was Gotham's reckoning, and she was everything that Gotham was. Evelyn was one of the most ruthless criminals in the city and answered to no one, until a great shadow loomed over her. "Sometimes I look at you, and think of how easy it would be for you to snap me in two... But sometimes I look at you and want to take off your mask, and kiss all of your pain away." Bane/OC
1. Prologue

**~ Prologue ~**

The blinking orange streetlight cast a dull glow over the slick post-rain streets of the Narrows. Everything was perfectly quiet and still, apart from the water dripping from the gutters of the run down houses, and the sound of Evelyn Mason's thick leather boots clunking on the pavement, and splashing through the puddles as she strode the streets and back alleys, chin held high, back straight and hips swinging. It paid to look confident in the Narrows, too many people likely to take advantage of a young woman, walking alone... Not like they _could_.

She found herself at an underpass; where there were a few run down buildings sitting side by side. Grey and miserable as everywhere else, but slightly more seedy and _unsavory_. One of them was basically a modern day whorehouse, another homed a long running meth lab, and another, the only one that was remotely lit, was where you would find some of the more hardened criminals of Gotham. This included Carmine Falcone, the person that Evelyn had business with.

She headed purposefully toward the dimly lit building, crossing the quiet road as she did so. In the distance she could hear the soft crackling of a fire lit in a tin can by a homeless man, and stepped round an expensive looking car to get to the door.

She hammered on the wood firmly with her fist and immediately a man in a black suit answered. He was tall, well built, and eyed her carefully. On her own, Evelyn wasn't particularly imposing, she was an average height woman, curvaceously built and with delicately pretty facial features. But her reputation was what gave her power, and she wasn't exactly difficult to spot in her black leather attire and identity-disguising eye-mask.

With a small nod, the guard let her in the bar and she stepped inside confidently, her eyes scanning over the many people inside. Criminals mixed with Gotham Officials, and fake-breasted tarts melted onto the laps of High Court judges. She spotted Falcone right away, sitting in his usual booth alone, flanked by a guard standing beside him.

"Ah, Ms. M, nice to see you." He said, his broad accent hanging to every word. Carmine Falcone was one of the most powerful people in Gotham, Evelyn knew that he could slit her throat right there and no one would bat an eyelid, and there wasn't much he didn't have control of in or out of the Narrows, but she wasn't one to be intimidated; everyone had something they were afraid of, it was just a case of figuring it out.

"Always a pleasure, Carmine." She said smoothly, her voice as calm and collected as it always was, as she sat herself across from him in the booth, crossing her legs, and resting her gloved hands on the table. No one else would call him 'Carmine,' it was always 'Mr Falcone' or 'Sir,' but Evelyn was a different case, too valuable.

"So, what brings you here?" He asked, a small smile of amusement on his lips. He liked this girl. "I heard that you were out of town."

"Oh I'm here, I'm there, I'm fuckin' everywhere." She said with a small grin. "And the guy's dead, so I want my money." She bluntly finished, sitting back and crossing her arms, the leather of her jacket squeaking ever so slightly.

"He's dead?" Carmine repeated with a tone of surprise. "Fast, even for you."

"He was a nobody, and nobody's are easy." She said flippantly, before again sitting forward and resting her hands on the table. "Now, my paymen**_t_**." She said firmly, eyes flashing behind her mask.

Falcone considered her for a moment, admiring her spunk.

"Of course." He looked up at his guard and nodded. The tall black man promptly disappeared into one of the back rooms to retrieve her cash. Falcone and Evelyn looked at each other, both with eyes slightly challenging, but bodies firm. Both knew neither would harm the other.

The guard returned holding a black briefcase, which he laid on the table in front of Falcone.

"Hmm, I would've preferred a burlap sack with a big dollar sign on it... But if you wanna be all formal." Evelyn joked, sitting forward further and uncrossing her legs. Falcone let out a throaty laugh as he opened the briefcase to reveal her money.

"It's in small bills like I asked for?" She questioned eyebrow quirking as she looked over it.

"$4,000 Ms M. As per our agreement." Falcone told her as Evelyn flipped through one of the money clips.

"Excellent." She dropped the clip back into the briefcase, and snapped it shut. "Pleasure doing business with you again Carmine." She gave him a wide smile and stood, picking the case up with her.

"And you Ms M. I'm sure I'll be seein' you soon." He said after her as she swaggered out of the room.

"I'm sure you will." She grinned, not turning back, and relishing the weight of the case she held in her hand. She arrived at the door where one of the guards opened the door for her. She sent him a wink and a smile.

"See you later boys." She said smoothly, before stepping back out into the wet streets of the Narrows.

It was fair to say that Evelyn Mason _loved_ her job.

**_... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..._**

Evelyn burst into the old run down apartment building; arms ceremoniously wide like she'd just arrived at a college party.

"Honey! I'm home!" She called animatedly, dropping the suitcase onto the floor as she practically skipped through the room. It was dimly lit and dusty, and the musty smell that floated round it was one unlike anything else. She stepped down the hallway and through into the room that would've been the kitchen. "Ooh, it smells _evil_ in here, what are you cooking up today Jonny?" She questioned, eyebrows high and grin wide.

"You know I don't like it when you call me that Evelyn..." Doctor Jonathan Crane replied, tone flat, although with a slight hint of amusement.

The rest of the apartment looked like any other, if a little unkempt. But the kitchen looked like the lab of a mad scientist. On the table, in lieu of plates and bowls of fruit were bubbling pots and conical flasks; boiling tubes holding different kinds of chemicals. The whole thing gave off an intoxicating mist, which slightly stung the nostrils. But Evelyn was far used it by now.

"And that Dr. Crane is exactly _why_ I call you it." She stepped round the table to stand next to him, as he hunched over the table, his eyes firmly on his notes. "_And_, I'm in a good mood." She added.

"And why is that?" He asked disinterestedly, still not looking up at her.

"Well, I made $4,000 dollars tonight." She said, smile igniting her face as she ran the tip of her tongue through her teeth. His eyes snapped up to her quickly.

"$4,000?" He repeated, looking pleased. "Excellent." He stood up straight and faced her. "That should get my research moving along nicely."

"Uh uh uh, Jonny-boy." She said with mock-scolding tone of voice. "Our deal's only good as long as I get something out of it." She wandered further into the kitchen leisurely, and her eyes spotted a bowl of assorted fruit.

"Now, I don't need to know everything about your diabolical plans but you know that I need incentive to carry on funding your work." She picked a grape off the bunch and rolled it between her fingers as she spoke. "Whatever is going to happen involving this mysterious Ra's al Ghul character is going to be big, I know that much." She threw a grape up into the air and caught it in her mouth. "But I need to know that _when_ Gotham is plunged into anarchy, using whatever the fuck this stuff is..." She waved her hand at the table. "That I will get some of the glory. I want to watch this city burn and not be left in the cinders if you understand me..." She smiled, picking up a peach now.

Crane considered her for a moment, with his untelling but piercing eyes, and slightly wry smile on his lips.

"I know perfectly well of your... _anarchic_, desires Evelyn and don't worry, you'll find out soon enough." He assured her, "you know you can trust me. I have no reason to stab you in the back."

Evelyn laughed a little, the sound reverberating through her chest as she chewed some of her peach.

"Oh Jonny..." She stepped toward him, her tone slightly low but her expression still amused. "You know as well as I do that if you _ever_ even _tried_ to stab me in the back..." She was standing directly in front of him now, speaking quietly. "That I would take that knife and _fucking_ cut your heart out with it." She whispered in his ear.

Crane allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of her breath. He wasn't afraid of her, both of them knew that much. But he knew that what she said was no lie; she _would_ kill him in a heartbeat if she had to. That was why he liked her; it was why he respected her.

She stepped back slightly and set him a cheerful smile and playful wink.

"You've got such pretty blue eyes Jon." She told him, her voice like silk as she set down her peach ran her fingers down his tie. He stared at her intently. He knew there was nothing sweet about what she said, nothing romantic. Evelyn was cold, cold and maniacal, and he wasn't sure she even had the capacity to be sweet or romantic anymore.

At first glance, Evelyn was perfect, beautiful in the face, with a centerfold body and long blonde tresses of hair. But inside, it was like there was nothing there, nothing real. She got a thrill from chaos and excitement from her 'job' but there was no real emotion there, she was like a doll... Perfect, beautiful; but empty.

She pecked the corner of his lips, and was grinning when she stepped back. She then straightened her jacket, cleared her throat, and turned her tone formal.

"I'll see you at work tomorrow Doctor Crane." She picked up his hand and shook his hand firmly, to which Crane rolled his eyes slightly. "And uh... I may drop into your office again... _Blow off some steam_." She said the last part in almost a purr.

With that, she stepped round him and to the door, where she picked up her discarded suitcase of money and took out a few clips.

"Don't spend it all in one place!" She called leaving the money behind for him before leaving, the door slamming closed behind her.

Evelyn didn't make habit of working with people; building ties had a tendency to blow up in your face. People couldn't be trusted, she'd learned that much. But Doctor Crane was different from your average criminal, more intelligent and with far different motives, more intellectually driven than financial or maniacal. Evelyn had only found out about his little endeavor accidentally; as a criminal psychologist at Arkham Asylum she had of course come across the director, Doctor Crane, and had noticed anomalies with his patients. Going into his office with mild cases of bipolar disorder and leaving trying to gouge out their own eyes. None of the other Doctor's had questioned it; they either hadn't noticed or were too afraid of dismissal to make themselves heard.

Evelyn wasn't like the other Doctor's though.

_..._

**_Back then_**

_"__Don't give me that bullshit Doc, you're a good psychologist but you aren't that good. There's clearly something up here and I wanna know what." Her fingertips were poised on his desk, and she leaned forward ever so slightly. _

_Crane gave her a wry smile and eyed her closely. Evelyn didn't back down, or turn away, even though his eyes did feel as if they were looking directly into your mind. He wet his lips before speaking:_

_"__Doctor Mason, I do not know what you are __**trying**__ to imply but I must say that this is completely inappropriate of you. What happens between me and my patients is confidential and I assure you th-"_

_"__You assure me that your practice completely conventional and in accordance with yada yada yada..." She waved her hand in a dismissive way. Crane was starting to get annoyed. This woman wasn't backing down and he didn't like it. He didn't like her questions. "You wouldn't want me going to the police with this would you?" She questioned, eyebrow arched. _

_Evelyn didn't mean that, she would never risk going anywhere near a police station unless she absolutely had to. She just wanted to know what Crane was up to. She didn't like missing out on any fun to be had and she especially didn't like the pretty little brown haired Doctor's __**lying**__ to her face. _

_"__I'm sure we can have a reasoned conversation about this Doctor Mason. Please, take a seat." He said eventually, after resolving that he would have to take more drastic measures to quiet this __**persistent**__ woman. _

_Evelyn looked at him carefully before sitting down in the chair opposite him, the one less comfortable and more worn than the one he sat in. She crossed her legs and Crane felt his eyes flick momentarily to her exposed leg. Christ knew it had been a while... _

**_Back to the matter at hand._**

_"__Would you like to see my mask, Evelyn?" He asked, reverting to her first name and unclipping his briefcase. "I use it in my experiments..." Evelyn watched as he took a rather hideous torn burlap sack from his brief case and held it up. The mouth and eyes were grotesquely and crudely sewn to make it look like a scarecrow's face. _

_"__You're far stranger than I estimated Doct-" _

_Evelyn stopped when a fast and harsh mist was sprayed in her face apparently from nowhere. She felt herself inhale and the toxin stung her nostrils and eyes as it entered every orifice on her head. She was confused, and her vision cloudy as she recovered from the shock of the initial blow of it, and coughed and spluttered._

_"__Are you afraid, Doctor Mason?" Crane had his mask on, and his voice sounded distorted behind it. It didn't even sound like him anymore, more a chesty taunting tone. Evelyn could barely see, her world seemed to be tipping from left to right and she subconsciously clutched the arms of her chair for support. _

_"__What-" She struggled for breath, aware that she was panting slightly and blood was pumping through her veins. "What the f-fuck did you just do t-... do to me?" _

_She focused all her attention on steadying her vision and controlling her breathing as she gripped the arms of the chair, nails in the wood. _

_"__What can you see?" His voice barked from somewhere in the distance, and Evelyn's clouded eyes searched for him in the mist. "WHAT CAN YOU SEE?" He repeated, her voice loud and sharp. _

_Evelyn looked around frantically. She couldn't see anything. The world spun and her vision was blurry but that was all. She could feel something akin to fear gripping her, beads of sweat formed on her forehead and she could feel the blood pumping round her veins. But she couldn't see anything. _

_"__WHAT CAN YOU SEE?" Crane jumped the desk, and all Evelyn could see was his burlap sack covered face in front of her own. She felt herself hit the floor and was aware of his weight on top of her, his hands on her neck as the wind was knocked from her. _

_This brought her back to reality, and through the fog she managed to turn the tables, surprising him as she threw her weight forward and knocked him onto his back, instinctively throwing back a fist and striking him hard._

_She stumbled to her feet, breathing in deeply as she regained her breath, sucking it in and blinking through her watering eyes. _

_She clutched her throat as he breathing steadied, her vision slowly returning to normal._

_"__You fucker." She panted out. "You fucker." She put a hand on the desk and leaned there, furious and humiliated. _

_Crane pulled off his mask slowly, still a little dazed from the surprisingly forceful punch and her little reaction to his toxin. Clearly there was something he didn't know about her. _

_He stood from the floor, and cracked his jaw. "Quite a punch Doctor." He said, in his low, smooth tone, as he touched his stinging cheek, a purple bruise already appearing. "Looks like I'm not the only one keeping secrets." He sat up and cracked his neck, watching a she regained her breath and steadied her shaking hands. _

_She rubbed her neck and looked at him, eyes deadly but lips curling into the slightest of wry smiles. _

_"__You don't know anything about me, Crane." She said, her voice still slightly croaky but steady. _

_"__I know that you probably have a better right hook than most of the guards in this institution." He stood and straightened his jacket. "And I know that your reaction to my toxin is... __**Undocumented**__." _

_"__And I know that you are doing little experiments on your patients that you wouldn't want the police to find out about." She countered, picking up the knocked over chair, returning to normality. _

_"__It seems were are at some sort of an impasse." He commented, flattening his hair._

_"__It seems so Doc." She stepped toward him slightly. "I'll tell you my dirty secrets if you tell me yours." She whispered. _

_... _

It was around three months after agreeing to work together that Evelyn and Jonathan had started screwing.

It just happened. People underestimated how stressful it was to juggle a double life, and since Crane and Evelyn's double lives happened to come into synch it worked for them both that they would use each other for stress relief.

_... _

_Evelyn stepped into her apartment after a long day, pulling off her mask as she did so with a deep sigh. She placed it carefully in the bottom drawer of her hallway bureau and headed into the living room, ready to spend what little was left of the night blissfully asleep. _

_She walked through the darkness, pulling off her boots as she did so, but when she bent down to unlace the second she was startled by the feeling of bony fingertips gripping her waist. She let out an uncharacteristic girlish squeal and quickly turned, ready to strike the first person her eyes saw. _

_"__Crane?" She questioned, frowning, pausing her fist in the air. "You scared the shi-"_

_"__SHUT. UP." He barked and gripped her wrist tightly before pushing her against the wall, she let out an 'oof!' as the wind was knocked from her. She wasn't as fast as she usually would be, having slightly let her guard down because of her trust of Crane. "What's wrong with you?" He asked, his tone low as he pressed is hands against her arms to keep her against the wall. "Why don't you look afraid? Why doesn't the toxin work on you?" His voice was frantic, and his piercing eyes searched her for answers. "Why aren't you afraid of __**anything**__?" He dug his thumbs into her skin. _

_"__I'm warning you Crane, get the fuck off me." She hissed, wanting to avoid any ugliness. _

_"__Is it bugs? Snakes? Closed in spaces? Clowns? Zombies?" He shook her slightly. "Tell me." _

_"__Last warning Crane." _

_"__**Tell me what scares you**__." His grip tightened on her arms, and she could feel his hot breath panting on her face. _

_He'd be warned. _

_Evelyn quickly brought her knee to his stomach, __**hard**__, using his reaction to throw off his hands and step back from him slightly. He clutched his stomach; the wind knocked out of him, and regained his breath before straightening. _

_As quick as the tables had turned, he switched them back on her, rushing forward and knocking her to the ground painfully. Evelyn cursed her lack of preparedness as she hit the ground with him on top of her. His change had thrown her off her game, and she didn't like losing control. It scared her slightly, and Crane could see it. _

_"__There, there it is." He saw the flicker in her eyes and leaned forward to get a better look. "I scared you."_

_He looked maddened as he brushed her hair from her face, pinning her arms down with his knees as he straddled her stomach. _

_Evelyn let out a bitter laugh that shook her chest._

_"__I get it now Jon... You like this, this is what you're into." She looked at him suggestively, and Crane was surprised at her change from momentary fear to complete confidence. She used his confusion to flip them round quickly, and Crane's world turned as he was now on his back with her straddling his hips. "Making people scared, having control over their fear." Her voice was like ice. "It's what you like. It's what gets you off. It's what makes you __**hard**__."_

_Crane couldn't deny the feelings she was stirring up within him. A mixture of anger and lust at the way she taunted him, the way he could feel her pelvis pressed against his and see her breasts elevated above him, pressing against the leather top she wore often. _

_"__Don't challenge me." He said firmly, his voice almost a whisper, his eyes intense. _

_Evelyn looked down at him, and it was as she looked at his eyes that she felt her body ablaze. It had been a while, and she was angry. But killing or injuring Crane would get her nowhere, and he had proven a decent resource to have at the Asylum... His understanding about being occasionally late and his mutual interests. They were co-workers in both respects, and sexual relationships between colleagues weren't unheard of. _

_"__Are you gonna stop me?" She asked quietly, and her seductive tone almost made him growl. _

* * *

**_~ 9 Years Later ~_**

Evelyn took off her glasses and cleaned them off on the hem of her skirt before replacing them on her nose with a slight sigh. She looked back up at the patient across from her, he was thrashing in his straitjacket and gurney straps, still trying to reach his face so that he could continue to pull teeth from his already raw gums.

"Peter." She repeated for around the fiftieth time, her tone firm but pleasant. "PETER!" She shouted, her voice cracked like a whip and echoed around the chipped white room. It was enough to make him stop thrashing and look at her with wide and deranged eyes. "I'm going to drink my coffee now, will you stop trying to gouge your teeth out while I drink my coffee, please?" She asked calmly, looking him directly in the face.

He stared at her for a moment, clearly confused, before giving a slight nod.

Evelyn picked up her coffee from the small table beside her and took a sip. She did it at her normal pace, blowing away the heat before having a sweet mouthful. She enjoyed the drink, and consumed it at a regular pace while her wide -eyed patient watched her, silently. The only sound in the room was that off Evelyn's lips sucking in the drink and swallowing it daintily.

Eventually, the drink was finished, leaving only the dregs in the bottom, and with a final swallow, Evelyn placed the empty mug on the table beside her and placed her glasses back onto her face.

The patient did not move in this time, he had been entirely transfixed on her the entire time, and his eyes watched her every movement.

She did a small, serene smile at him. "Now then Peter," her voice was impossibly calm and calming in turn, "why did you start pulling out your teeth this morning?" She rested her arm on the small table beside her and picked up her pen, poising it carefully above the paper, but keeping her eyes fixed on his.

He frantically licked his bloody lips, and his body shook against the straps when he moved.

"The voices the voices again," he whipped his head from side to side, "they tell me to do it. If I don't- th- they'll tear and rip and my brain will sssssizzle like bacon." He let out a mad laugh that turned into a desperate cry. Evelyn kept her eyes fixed on him, nodding as he spoke, but her right hand moving swiftly across the page as she took careful notes.

"The voices aren't real, Peter." She leaned forward slightly, these words falling off her tongue for the hundredth time. "You know this."

He opened his mouth, before clamping it shut and shaking his head. She recognized this action. He would speak to her no more. She straightened her glasses, stood and crossed the white padded room, knocking gently on the Plexiglas of the door. The guard standing outside turned and nodded, unlocking it for her.

"Please unstrap Mr Smyth and keep a close eye on his actions. I want a nurse keeping him on observation."

"Yes ma'am." He gave her one nod, and crossed the room while Evelyn made her way out, and headed for her office. This floor contained the patients who were mostly a danger to themselves; the floor below was where the maximum-security patients were held. For then though, she was heading two floors up to where her office was, a headache forming in her temples.

She had had another long night that promised her plenty of money, but had meant some very sticky work and little sleep, and even for a woman like her, sleep was important. The elevator pinged on her floor and she stepped out, heading to the office that formerly belonged to Jonathan Crane, but the name on the frosted glass of the door now read her name and qualifications.

Sitting in the comfortable leather desk chair and rubbing her forehead again, she found herself thinking about the past few years of her life. Things with Crane's fear toxin had gone terribly wrong, and he had gotten himself caught while Evelyn had been foolish enough to save a child from the gas. She didn't like to think about that, she didn't know what had come over her, but in that moment, pity and nurturing had taken over her desire for destruction, and she could not help but to take the boy to safety. It was a sign of weakness she hoped never to show again. In Crane's brief return, Evelyn had managed to get in further with the major crime heads of Gotham, and this proved to be how she eventually met the Joker, possibly one of the people she most admired in the world. She'd gained his trust, and been at his side throughout the terrorizing of Gotham, and although their motives were similar, Evelyn was much more concerned for her own life than the Joker was for his own life, and she would not sacrifice protection of herself for a chance to bring down the Batman.

After his capture, Evelyn had found herself almost permanently bored. With no Batman to defy, with no great mastermind's plans to become raveled in, Evelyn spent most of her time on small-time jobs. Killing and stealing was fun enough, but she couldn't help but feel the desire for something _more_, something grand, and awful, and catastrophic. She smiled slightly to herself and cracked her knuckles, and thought about what she would be doing that night. A party, perhaps, maybe she'd go to a club, have a few drinks...

**_..._**

"Right! Ladies and gentlemen! If you would all kindly get on your knees on the floor, hands behind your heads, that's the way. Lovely darling." She gestured to a crying woman on the floor. "Bravo!"

She hopped over to the cashier's desk. "You," she aimed her gun at the shaking woman behind the counter, "keep your hands where I can see them, and quickly fill this," she threw her a black duffel bag, "with the contents of the register while I get to work on this cabinet." She grinned, and used her elbow to smash in the glass, so that she could grab the diamond jewelry with gloved hands and stuffed them into the bag on her shoulder. As anticipated, the alarm set off, ringing in her ears.

"Right, I have 55, seconds, quickly, quickly, quickly," she said, to the woman, banging the butt of her gun on the top of the metal register, making her flinch.

"Pl-please don't kill me..." Tears streaked the woman's face, and her voice shook when she spoke.

"Aww, hush hush now," Evelyn ran her leather gloved hand up the woman's face, and rubbed a tear away, "I'm not going to _**kill**_ you."

She pointed her gun at the wall behind cashier, just over her shoulder and fired, causing the room to scream and jump.

"You'd better hurry up though, sweetheart."

The crying woman stuffed the bills into the bag as quickly as her shaking, fumbling hands would allow her, while Evelyn skipped across the room and took the shoulder of a fearful looking business man, dragging him to his feet, and holding him with her left arm around the shoulders, the barrel of her gun pressed against his temple.

"Right! This is my hostage!" She jabbed the barrel of the gun into his head. "Look at him! Scared isn't he?" She put her lips on the shell of his ear. "Scared, aren't you?" and he was, he looked terrified; he cried.

Hoisting the bags onto her shoulder, and tightening her grip on the man, she made her way out of the back door of the shop, kicking it open with impressive strength.

Idiots, the police hadn't surrounded the back door yet. All that was there was a black motorbike, sleek and shining in the sunlight. Her Kawasaki Z900A1 1973. Her baby.

"Thanks for being my hostage sweetie," she kissed the cheek of the suited man and threw him to the ground roughly, "you were a big help."

She threw her leg over the bike, and swung the bags onto her back. She tore the black mask from her face, and placed it in one of the bags, facing away from the man, before placing the black helmet on her head, and revving her bike.

**_... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... _**

Evelyn stood on the edge of the flat roof looking down. The streets of Gotham were still save for the odd late night driver or stumbling drunk woman. She enjoyed the chill of the night on her bare arms and legs. She wore a fitting black tank top and shorts, combat boots on her feet and steadfast where she stood, arms crossed, mask over her eyes. Often, she would look down at the world below her, and wonder how it would feel to hold out her arms and fall forward. It would feel like flying for a little while, wouldn't it? And then at the end she would be free from everything, free from Gotham, free from herself, free from the ache in her gut that made her do the things that she did. She smiled slightly to herself. Evelyn Mason was far too self-important to die in that way. She stepped back from the roof edge.

The sound of light feet in heels behind her made her turn, grinning.

"Why hello there."

The leather clad woman with blood-red lips walked toward Evelyn, a slight smirk in place, and Evelyn walked toward her.

"I hear someone's been a _baaaad _kitty-cat." Evelyn said, and the two pale women clad in black started to circle one another. The sleek, brunette black-cat and the wild, blonde, snow-wolf.

"Oh yeah? Who you been talking to?" The Cat smoothly replied. Evelyn laughed.

"As if I would tell you that, silly girl." She crossed her arms loosely. "Besides, the leather jumpsuit is a little bit of a giveaway."

"Seems like I'm not the only one either, a jewelry store, wasn't it? 'The Masked Lady strikes again.'"

"'The Masked Lady', huh? Has kind of a ring to it."

"So," The Cat stopped circling, and as did Evelyn, "what did you want to see me for?"

"I hear that you've been getting in good with the big bad men around the Narrows. I'm saying you need to watch your back." Evelyn said seriously, her eyebrow quirking slightly.

The Cat laughed, "A friendly warning? The last time we met you broke my nose."

"You tried to steal from me," Evelyn shrugged, "don't steal from someone you can't outrun, right?" She pursed her lips slightly, "but you know I like you, and I'm telling you right now that something big's gonna happen, I don't know what but it will, and you do well to be ready when it does."

"I can handle myself." The Cat-woman replied, although her eyes betrayed ever so slight worry. Evelyn smiled slightly, eyes dark.

"No you can't." She said softly, and their eyes met meaningfully for a moment, before Evelyn turned away, jogging over to the fire-escape ladder that she slid down.

**_... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..._**

Evelyn poised the blade in her head, holding it directly before her closed eyes, before letting out a long breath. In a swift movement, the blade was cutting through the air, and came to a halt with it became embedded in the wall beside the others.

Oh, she was bored, so very, very bored. She would not be throwing knives at the wall were she not mind-numbingly bored. With a long sigh, she slid over to the embedded blades and removed them one by one. She didn't like this house, it was so clean and white, and bare. The floor was perfect shining wood, and the walls were covered in art deco. She loathed that. Arbitrary pieces of artwork that were thoroughly displeasing on the eye and took no skill to create. They came with the environment. She was surrounded by the well-to-do and the rich... she loathed them the most. 'Oh, daddy bought me this house, and my BMW.' She threw one of the knives in annoyance. What a bunch of insufferable bitches, she'd gladly live in one of the cheaper sides of Gotham would it not be that that would look odd for a woman of such 'inherited' wealth to live anywhere but the best.

She'd been having strange feelings she felt in her stomach and chest on jobs of late that completely confused her, and she found it best not to dwell on them. But dwelling sometimes could not be avoided, and she found herself wondering if she was getting weak, wondering if she was getting scared as she got older. For the past months she'd heard whispers in the darker corners of the city about something big on the horizon- something that Scarecrow and Joker could never have done, a large looming shadow stalking the underground- part of her was excited, but part of her wasn't, and she wasn't sure why.

'Music.' She thought; that was what she needed. She walked over to the iPod dock and speakers, and placed the music-filled contraption on it. She scrolled her finger down the extremely long list, and found the song she wanted.

_"__Do you remember a guy that's been,_

_In such an early song,_

_I've heard a rumour from Ground Control_

_Oh no, don't say it's true..."_

She believed that she could love nothing, but if she could, she was sure she would love music, and she would love David Bowie.

_"__They got a message from the Action Man,_

_"'I'm happy, hope you're happy too_

_I've love, all I've needed to love_

_Sordid details following...'"_

She breathed in and smelled the music, felt it run through her every nerve, and delightfully ease her mind.

_"__The shrieking of nothing is killing, _

_Just pictures of Jap girls _

_in synthesis and I_

_Ain't got no money and I ain't got no hair,_

_But I'm hoping to kick but the planet it's glowing..."_

She turned on the spot smoothly, eyes closed, smiling.

_"__Ashes to ashes, _

_funk to funky,_

_We know Major Tom's a junkie,_

_Strung out in heaven's high, _

_Hitting an all, time, low..."_

Her fingers danced through the air at the high notes as she sang softly along. She heard though through the music, the sound of car tires on the road outside her home. Immediately, she crossed to the window and peered down to the street below, where a shining silver Aston Marten pulled up. She frowned slightly, wondering whom her visitor would be- and then he stepped out.

James Langdon was a horrible, rat-faced man, and in any other situation Evelyn would have him under her boot, but she knew he was involved in the oncoming storm, and thought it was best to keep him alive. They'd met before while she was masked, he'd been close to Salvatore Maroni way back when the criminal world was truly thriving.

However, his arrival at her home meant something had gone severely wrong. He was not here to see the 'Masked Lady' or 'Miss M', he was here to see Doctor Evelyn Mason, and no one who wasn't behind bars knew that they were one of the same...

Apart from him, apparently. This was not good.

Evelyn acted fast, rushing to her bedroom where she stripped off her clothes entirely, replacing them with a powder blue dressing gown, which she pulled together and tied around her, she tied up the long tresses of blonde girls haphazardly. She opened the bottom drawer of her dresser: and moved aside the piles of clothes, instead taking from underneath a stiletto blade, a gun with silencer and two thigh straps, putting her right leg on the bed to attach it firmly, she did the same with the left and the gun, and pulled her dressing gown back over, concealing the weapons.

The doorbell rang through the house, and Evelyn pulled her gown to her, arranging her face into mild confusion and tiredness, before stepping through the living room to the door. She looked through the peephole, and sure enough, there stood Langdon and his lackey, with some silly nickname that Evelyn couldn't remember at his side. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, collecting herself, before opening the door.

"Oh, hello," she said brightly, "can I help you?"

Langdon smirked the kind of smirk that made Evelyn want to stab him in the face.

"Enough with the theatrics, Doc," he walked swiftly by her into the house, and Stryver followed. "Or would you prefer Ms M? The Masked Lady?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." She had one last feeble go at ignorance, as he stood himself a few feet in front of her. He laughed wryly and shook his head.

"Nice try, Mason, but I'm not buying it."

She sighed, and let her hands drop to her sides, admitting defeat it seemed.

"Pretty good cover I gotta say, rich psychiatric doctor living in the fancier part of Gotham by day, but by night a masked menace, terrorizing the city and never getting caught." He spoke with mocking, and Evelyn tried to figure out what his game was. She crossed her arms.

"What are you here for then? Must have had to go to a lot of trouble to find out who I am. What for?" Her voice was even, but her fury blazed inside.

"No doubt you've heard whispers about something big happening in Gotham pretty soon, and you know I'm involved. You're not dumb, that's why you're not behind bars right now like Crane and the Clown."

"They weren't dumb." She sharply replied.

"'Course not, 'course not." He held out his hands in a placating way. "All I'm saying is that I think you could be useful, and so does my boss."

"And your boss is?"

He smirked again, "let's just say that he's close to the shadow over the city. A shadow _much_ bigger than the Bat's."

"And you took the trouble to find out who I am because..."

"Leverage, somewhat. It would be quite the scandal if the leading analyst of criminal minds at Arkham Asylum turned out to be one of the most ruthless killers and thieves the city has ever seen. _Everyone_ would hunt you down, you wouldn't last a week."

Evelyn laughed loudly now.

"You're bribing me?" Eyebrows high and grin wide. "YOU are bribing ME?" The arch of her foot struck his shin hard, and he instinctively reached out to grab it as he cried out in pain. Moving fluidly, she ripped the knife from her thigh, and grabbed him round the shoulders, knife at his throat. "What's to stop me from slitting your fuckin' throat right now?" She hissed in his ear. His lackey looked fearful, scrabbling to take a gun from his belt, which was promptly pointed at her head.

"I don't report back to my bosses, your name is spread around the city." He breathed heavily, betraying his fear, but he spoke with confidence that let her know he was telling the truth.

"They're waiting for _you_?"

He hesitated before replying. "Yes." He sounded uncertain.

Before either man knew what was happening, Evelyn's gun was from it's holster, and the high-pitched sound of a silence bullet rang through the room, as his henchman fell to the ground, a hole in his forehead, blood on the floor.

"What the fuck?" Langdon yelled, thrashing against her arm. "Why? Why you bitch?" He spat, and she did not break her hold on him, merely tightened her grip and pressed the blade harder against his skin.

"Run from me and I'll cut off your balls." She kicked the back of his legs sharply so that he fell to his knees on the polished wood floor, grunting.

She placed the point of her blade under his chin, and lifted his head so he could look her in the eye. She was in control now, she was the woman he had heard so much about and she was terrifying.

"You come into _my_ home and threaten _me_?" She seethed. "No, no, no," she shook her head with mock disapproval, and pursed her lips, "you do not get to do that and leave with everyone you came in with and every bone intact." She knelt down on the floor in front of him, and it was amazing how a pretty woman in a blue robe could look so very threatening. "I have a few questions, I may not be able to kill you, but fail to answer my questions and I _will_ hurt you and I will hurt you badly."

He didn't reply, he just looked at her. He clearly had not expected to see his friend get shot in the head, and lose control of the situation so quickly.

"Firstly, who was it that found out who I was?" She ran the point of the blade down his thigh now, looking him square in the eye. He was fearful but did not reply. She started to press in the knife so that a slit was cut in his trouser leg. "_Who was it_?" She repeated, voice like venom. His breathing picked up, and he shook his head slightly. Evelyn sighed and rolled her eyes animatedly, and picked up an 'A' shaped stress-ball from the end table beside her. She shoved the squishy material into his mouth, before plunging the knife into his leg to the hilt; the sound of squelching flesh, bone and muscle was unmistakable, but muffled by the man's pained scream as he bit down on the stress ball hard. Once his screams subsided, she took the saliva covered stress-ball from between his teeth, and placed it beside her. She calmly put her hand on the handle of the knife, and pressed ever so slightly, enough to make him sweat even more and groan in pain.

"Who. Was. It?" She twisted the blade sharply.

"AGH! FUCK! CATWOMAN!" He cried desperately. Evelyn paused, and the flames behind her eyes were almost visible. She always knew that the Cat _could_ betray her, but she did not think that she _would_.

"Thank you." She ripped the blade from his leg, and his hands went to clutch it. She could see tears on his cheeks. "Ah ta ta ta ta," she rubbed the tears away with the back of her hand, "one last question," she cut another slit down his other trouser leg, "what will you tell your bosses when you go back?"

He breathed deeply in and out, "that you agree not to go against us when Gotham falls. If you say you will not help when needed," he grunted, adjusting his position slightly, "they will make life very difficult for you."

"And who are 'they'?"

"I don't know." Instead of stabbing in the blade, she nicked his skin enough for it to sting and bleed. He hissed. "I really don't know." His brow was furrowed and beads of sweat dripped. "All I know is about the huge masked man. That's it, I swear." She looked at his face a long moment, and decided eventually that he was telling the truth.

Evelyn nodded, and took the knife away from his leg.

"Now, get the fuck out of ,y house."

The man scrambled to his feet, clutching his wounded leg and limping as quickly as he could to the door.

Evelyn let out a long breath and stood, she had a lot of work to do, she certainly couldn't stay in the house if people knew who she was, it only took one upset ex-client for her to lose her head in her sleep. First, she picked up the phone and dialed the number of an old colleague.

"Donny, I've got a mess that needs cleaning up at 28 Hill Street." She pressed the phone between her shoulder and her ear, and proceeded to wash flecks of blood off her hands in the kitchen sink. "Be there in one hour, not a minute before. I'll leave your usual payment on the coffee table and a key under the doormat. Lock the door behind you and throw the key in the river." She worked the red off her cuticles thoroughly, and watched the rusty water slip down the drain.

"Got it, M." The gravelly voice replied.

She hung up and let out a long breath. She needed to pack. She was going back to the Narrows, and then she had a cat to find.

**_..._**

Evelyn didn't have to wait long before the Cat made herself apparent, and she managed to keep an eye on the sleek black figure making it's way over the roofs and fire-escapes of the streets while she stayed on her bike on the road. Catwoman wasn't the only one who could follow someone to effect.

She looked up at the window at which the Cat had come to a halt, and watched the woman slip inside. Evelyn wasn't too sure what she had expected, but a run down apartment in the Narrows was not it.

Her boots clunked on the chipped wooden stairs on the way up to the apartment, and Evelyn softly knocked on the door when she arrived. No peephole. Brilliant.

"Who is it?" She unmistakable smooth voice called. Evelyn didn't reply, just knocked again. The Cat huffed and opened the door sharply, and once she set eyes on the masked woman the colour drained from her face. Evelyn smiled broadly, and took her double-action pistol from the inside of the long black coat she wore, pointing it square between her eyes.

"Don't try anything, I know all the moves." Evelyn's voice was even, and smooth, and full of malice. "Follow me." She grabbed hold of Selina Kyle's arm and pushed the barrel of the gun into her lower back, guiding her up a few flights of stairs to the roof. Neither woman spoke on the way, but Selina felt fear she rarely felt.

"Look, I didn't-"

The butt of Evelyn's gun collided hard with the back of Selina's head and she stumbled forward. Evelyn did not relent in her movement, and ploughed the heel of her boot into the back of Selina's knees, and pushing her forward, boot in her back and gun at her head.

"Explain yourself." Evelyn's voice was like ice.

"I- I- They just said they could offer me a clean slate..."

Evelyn laughed loudly, and shook her head.

"No, no, no," she dropped the gun behind her and slammed her elbow down on the middle of Selina's back so that she fell onto her stomach. "NO!" She yelled, and slammed Selina's face onto the floor. "People like you and I don't get a clean slate in this life. IDIOT!" She crouched over Selina's body, and rested a knee between her shoulder blades, pulling back her head. "Especially when the slate we're on is as filthy as yours." She hissed.

Evelyn's fist was tight at the back of her head, her fingers pulling taught the dark strands of hair, as she ploughed her head into the ground once more. Selina Kyle spat blood and gravel and one tooth onto the floor.

"Betray me again and I will burn you alive." Evelyn swore, and Selina believed her. "Last chance."

**_... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... _**

Evelyn liked the Narrows, she thought, as she sat at the grimy window of her new dwelling, feet on the small kitchen table and back against the glass. It had character, a darkness to it that she enjoyed. She'd been born in the Narrows, and as she stepped further into her thirties she thought more and more that it would be where she died.

She bit into an apple as she looked up at the other inhabitant of the room and talked on her phone.

"Yes, I'm afraid a short vacation is just what I need. Mother and I were very close and..." she squeaked and sniffled slightly, "sorry, I just- we were very close and she passed away so quickly."

"I'm so sorry for your loss Doctor Mason." The sympathetic secretary replied.

"Yes thank you," Evelyn sniffed, a grin on her lips, "so just let the Asylum know I'll be back when I feel fit, thank you." She looked up again at her guest, and sent him a week. "Bye now." She hung up and set the phone on the table.

"Now, where were we?" She uncrossed her ankles from the table and stood.

Sean Benson swung upside down by his ankles, face pink where the blood had rushed to his head and arms tied firmly behind his back.

"Oh yes, right." The 'thwack!' of her hand across his cheek rang through the apartment, and he whimpered slightly. "Where can I find the masked man?" She demanded.

"I don't know anything! I'm just a cement truck driver!" He pleaded. Evelyn sighed and shook her head. She crossed over the living room where she picked up a packet of cigarettes and lighter. She walked back over to the man and knelt in front of him so they were face to face, before she slid the cigarette between his lips and lit it.

"Take a drag." She softly commanded, and he did so. She took it from his lips again, and turned it so the lit end was inches from his face. "Don't lie to me again. Tell me what you know about the masked man. Where can I find him?"

His lips stayed closed tight and she rolled her eyes, before pressing it against the middle of his forehead, 'causing him to scream and thrash. She did not relent. Instead she held his head still and pressed the cigarette harder.

"UNDERGROUND!" He shouted, and she let go, triumph on her face.

"Yes. But WHERE?"

"If you climb into the sewers in the alley off Dog Lane and turn left and follow the cistern you'll find him." He blabbed, shaking.

Evelyn smiled broadly, and tapped his face none too gently.

"Good boy." She took her knife from her boot and he cried out desperately, but she merely cut the bindings on his legs, and allowed him to fall painfully onto his head. "Now, what are you going to do?"

She crouched down, knife still in hand. He pulled himself up slightly, hands still bound.

"Nothing. I won't say anything." He desperately assured.

"Wrong." She said firmly. "You go and you tell them everything, you tell them that I am coming to see them and you tell them that I _do not like_ to be blackmailed."

He nodded vigorously at her.

"What are you waiting for?" She asked playfully. "RUN." He got to his feet as best he could and ran from the apartment.

Evelyn eyed the half a rope hanging from the ceiling, and stubbed out the cigarette under her boot.

Her life in treacherous danger, living amongst the scum in one of the roughest cities in the world, searching for a villain the likes of which the world had ever seen...

_This_ was more like it.

**_... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..._**

**_Hello! This is my first story on my new account and I just had to get it out after finally seeing the Dark Knight Rises the other day (what a terrific film). As someone who has been hopelessly in love with the beautiful and talented Tom Hardy for a long time, it was pretty brilliant to find out he was involved in not only my favourite comic book universe of all time, but also in a series of some of the best action cinema ever, and I think he did an excellent job of portraying Bane. _**

**_I hope this chapter did not seem too long-winded, I worried that the opening with Crane and suck would seem a little redundant but I just wanted to give a clear picture of Evelyn and her character. Obviously, as this is only the beginning there is much more to be discovered about her than shown here, and I really hope she grows to become a much more sympathetic character than expected. _**

**_Please do review if you enjoyed this and would like to see it continue, because I would really love to carry on writing it and my head is full of ideas. Reviews are the best incentive to write. _**

**_Thank you very much, _**

**_-EJ. _**


	2. Into the Belly of the Beast

**~ Into the Belly of the Beast ~**

**_Back then_  
**

_Evelyn sat atop the mountain of cash, laughing gleefully at one of Joker's jokes, tears in her eyes and almost falling backwards into the mounds of green paper._

_"Okay, I've got one:" Evelyn crossed her legs and sat forward slightly, Joker leaned in with expectation. "Why don't cannibals eat clowns?"  
_

_"Why DON'T cannibals eat clowns?" _

_"Because they taste funny!" It was the sheer awfulness of the joke that made them both keel over in laughter and clutch their stomachs.  
_

_"Oh, please can I keep some of this money?" She asked childishly, leaning forward slightly and looking up at him through her mask with big eyes. Joker gave a wheezy laugh and touched her bottom lip with his purple-gloved thumb._

_"That wasn't part of the pla**n."**_

_"We don't have plans." She purred. "We just run forward and don't look back."_

_Joker moved her bottom lip slightly with his thumb and appeared to examine it, before moving his hand from her face. She budged up closer to him, a few clips of cash falling down the pile. Boldly, she put her hand on his tie and leaned forward to his painted face. No one else in the world would be this brave with the Joker, but Evelyn was special._

_"One clip. And then burn the rest." Her voice was smooth, her breath hot on his face, his dark eyes looked into hers. "And watch him squirm." A dark laugh rumbled in Joker's chest._

_"Oh, I know why I have you around, Minx." Joker had decided on their first meeting that the 'M' would stand for Minx. Evelyn grinned wolfishly back at him, and he picked up a bundle of dollars before slipping them in his pocket. "For you."_

_The door of the warehouse opened, and in walked the Chechen, cigar in mouth._

_"Not so crazy as you look!" He called in a thick Russian accent. Joker stood and held out his arms._

_"I told you, I'm a man of my word." He jumped and slid down the pile, the cash moving around him like waves. Evelyn watched from the top of the pile, smirk in place, arm resting on her bent knee. "Where's the Italian?" He picked up a few bundles and threw them playfully but roughly at Evelyn, which she dodged, laughing._

_"What do you do, with your money?" Chechen asked._

_"You see, I'm a guy of simple tastes... I enjoy dynamite, gunpowder, and **gasoline**!" Without hesitation a few of the masked goons rushed forward and proceeded to douse he money with cans of gas. Evelyn stood up on the pile, and slid down in the path Joker had made with surprising grace, stopping on her backside at the bottom. Joker held out his hand and helped her up in a gentlemanly way._

_Chechen rushed forward to stop him, but Evelyn promptly took her gun from it's holster and pointed it at his face._

_"A ta ta." She softly warned, shaking her head._

_"You know the thing that they have in common?" Joker walked back over the Chechen, standing close to him and waving his own gun around, which the Russian eyed. "They're cheap."_

_"You're not going to burn it." Chechen said, somewhat muffled by his cigar._

_"Oh I am." Joker plucked the cigar from his mouth, and blew it slightly. "I'm only burning my half." Without hesitation he threw the cigar at the sodden bills, and almost immediately it went up in flames. Chechen looked as if he may cry, and Evelyn felt herself grinning. Smiling as money burned was not something she thought she would do._

_"All you care about is money. This town deserves a better class of criminal." Joker whispered. "And I'm gonna give it to them." He nodded, and poked Chechen in the chest with the barrel of his gun. "Tell your men they work for me now. This is my city."_

_"They won't work, for a freak." Chechen spat out with rage. Evelyn gripped her gun handle tightly, wanting to beat the man to death._

_"F-rhheeak." Joker imitated. Evelyn could feel the heat coming off the fire, and it cast an orange glow across the whole warehouse. "Why don't we cut you up into little pieces and feed you to your pooches?" He flipped open his pocketknife quickly, Evelyn hadn't even seen him reach for it. He would have to teach her that, she thought. "Hm?" Chechen's men grabbed their former boss by the shoulders, and held him back. Goons are so changeable. "And then we'll see how loyal a hungry dog really is."_

_The dogs barked ravenously, and his men dragged him back._

_"Can I deal with our Russian friend please, Joker?" Evelyn asked with maliciously sweet politeness. Joker grinned and gently ran his blade over her cheek."I'd like to test out that 'hungry dog' theory." _

_"Go for it, sweetheart."_

* * *

Evelyn bounced on her toes, elbows bent, fists poised, a sheet of sweat covering her body, making the stray hairs at the nape of her neck stick to hers skin. She looked into the dead rubber eyes of her armless, legless opponent, held in front of her on one metal pole and ground with cement. She sent an uppercut under it's thick plastic chin with her left, making him quiver, followed by a swift, jaw-shattering punch to the side of it's head with her right. She practiced her high kick, swinging her right leg round, so the side of her ankle and foot collided full force with the head. Next, she poised herself carefully, before taking a leap, pushing her foot off the chest of Torso-Man, and jumping acrobatically backward to grab the metal bar above her head. From this position, she swung her body forward, and wrapped her legs around Torso-Man's neck, choking the non-life out of him.

Her biceps strained and she fought to keep hold of the bar above her head and the opponent. The sound of a ringing phone in her pocket, 'She's a Lady' by Tom Jones to be precise, broke her concentration.

"Fuckery." She hissed, and promptly let go of the bar, landing heavily on her feet on the training mat below. She unzipped the pocket of her combat trousers, and answered, slightly breathless. "Yes?"

"Miss M. It's Harry. I've got those blades in you wanted." His old gravelly voice came.

Evelyn grinned wolfishly, "Excellent news! I will be around to pick them up tonight. What's the damage?"

"Nothing you can't afford." He laughed roughly, the laugh of a smoker. Evelyn smirked.

"Expect me tonight." She hung up and gleefully tucked the phone back into her pocket. "Gonna be a good night." She smiled at Torso-Man, before frowning. "Oh lighten up." She got to work on his body, sending quick punches with each hand, one after the other.

If she were to be entering the lion's den, she did not want to enter unprepared, and would make sure her weapons were sharp and ready, and her increasingly doughy body was as strong as it could be. Over many weeks she collected every bit of information she could on the masked man and what he was up to, and this turned out not to get her very far. With all her contacts and knowledge and digging around, she found out very little about what was happening under her very feet, and could not help but feel frustrated by this. People didn't keep things from Evelyn Mason and keep their teeth as well, but she knew that for once she was out of the loop.

She crossed her gym, (built in the apartment next door to her home with no expense spared, the walls knocked through, every piece of equipment she needed at her fingertips), and headed to the door adjoining her living room. She approached her bedroom and dresser, and ran her fingers along the underside of the smooth wood of the top, until she heard a click, and could lift the lid. There lay an array of knives, guns, and various other pieces of equipment designed to cause intense pain to fellow human beings on a bed of smooth blue velvet. It was like a huge, deranged makeup box, with compartments that opened outward, shelves of weaponry neatly arranged on each one. In the middle of the hidden compartment lay a pristine black eye mask, worn on the inside, one of a kind, fitted perfectly for Evelyn's nose.

Evelyn did not know what to expect from the man in the mask or his underground lair, but she was prepared for a fight.

**_... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..._**

The next few weeks were spent training herself, building up her body as best she could and ensuring she had everything she needed for the oncoming storm. She took a sabbatical from work, which she thought could perhaps become permanent if needs be. She started to make arrangements for not returning to the Doctor Evelyn Mason that people knew, as she thought more and more about the dangers of people knowing who she was. Evelyn knew that she had to go underground even further (quite literally) until she knew what the masked man truly wanted of her. Before she did so, she had assets to protect, and so set out for the bank one Saturday morning.

She didn't like being in banks without a gun in her hand. The women working there always asked too many questions, always wore too much makeup and always chatted _far too much. _If it wasn't enough that she had been queuing for fifteen minutes, when she finally arrived at the desk she had been greeted by pointless banter from quite possibly the dumpiest and most irritating woman Evelyn had ever met.

"Just waiting for the system to check your information," the woman smiled brightly, a bit of pink lipstick on her front tooth. Evelyn smiled back, and wondered if she could feasibly empty her jugular with the little blue pen on a chain.

"And you want to deposit $45,000 for..." She talked to slow.

"Amelia Rose Smith. When she comes of age. She's nine years old at the moment." Evelyn spoke quickly. It would probably cause quite a scene... Worth it?

"And your relationship with the child again?"

"Sister."

**_... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..._**

The night finally arrived when Evelyn would enter the belly of the beast, and she was sure she could not have prepared more.

There were still a few final touches though.

First: A bath.

Evelyn was always a person who could live without home comforts if need be, but something she would always be sure to miss was a deep, hot bath, just cool enough to be bearable but plenty hot enough to make her skin tingle and turn pink. Avocado and peach filled her nose, and she leaned her head back against the cold porcelain. If she was going to die soon, she thought, she hoped they had baths in hell.

Second: Light a cigar.

She never was much of a smoker, but she discovered many years ago that she was partial to a decent La Aroma de Cuba Mi Amor Belicoso. She sucked in the woody, nutty taste, and breathed the heavy smoke out through her nose. Lovely.

Third: War paint.

There was an art to makeup. A science to the layers of foundation, the powder, the rouge. With a small soft brush she applied a light shimmering layer of glitter-black eye-shadow over her eyelid, before smoothing an almost sheer silver layer above it, so her eyes appeared to shine. Above the line of her eyelashes she applied a line of black liquid eyeliner and allowed it to flick off at the side, repeating the action with her other eye. All the way Ella Fitzgerald sang to her gently, letting her relax, letting her be calm. Last came the lipstick, bold and deep red, making her plump and smooth lips stand out against her white skin even more.

She snapped her lips, and winked at her reflection.

"Hello gorgeous."

Fourth: Battle gear.

While Evelyn was half tempted to call on a few contacts and ask if they had any chainmail available, she conceded to herself that perhaps a fight would not even be necessary, so she settled for her usual black garb. Fitted shorts for free movement, combat boots so her kick landed a bit harder and her shins were protected, and a tight vest so she wouldn't get hot and because she looked pretty damn good in it. Then the black leather jacket, and the plated fingerless gloves. Finally came her mask, sitting firmly on her nose and temples, and taking her from Evelyn Mason to Ms. M.

Fifth: The armory.

When it came to weaponry, Evelyn packed lightly, trusting her own skills above that of a bullet or knife-edge. Into her boot she tucked her trusty knife, an M carved into the polished handle, and unto her thighs she strapped two pistols, à la Lara Croft, she thought.

Finally she was ready. No more push ups, no more beating the shit out of practice goons in the Narrows at night, time to go into the sewers.

The empty streets of the Narrows were perfect for riding her bike at speed on the way to her destination, swinging round each corner at such a speed that her knee almost touched the ground. There was no better way to get ready for a fight than this, shooting through roads like a whippet. Soon, she reached Dog Lane, and as she had been told, found the manhole cover leading down into the sewer tunnels. She'd been in some pretty awful places, but the sewers really pushed it.

She grimaced slightly as she jumped into the ankle high water and it splashed her trousers.

"Coulda been a teacher." She whispered to herself, and headed left, keeping to the cement and stepping lightly as best she could in her boots.

Her back was bent slightly as she moved through the cistern, keeping her eyes open for any movement and listening for any sound. For a while, the only other form of life appeared to be the odd rat scuttling by her, but eventually she came to the first armed guard as she rounded a corner.

Clearly she hadn't heard her, so she moved with stealth, moving slowly but swiftly behind him so that she could grab his neck from behind with her arm, wrapping it entirely and tightly around him, and kicking him in the back of his knees so he fell to them, and not relenting in her choking grip on his neck. He tried his best to turn his gun on her, but she brought round her leg and kicked it from his hands, muffling the sound of his chokes and splutters with her left hand, and squeezing his nose with her thumb and index finger. Eventually, he fell unconscious, and she dropped his limp body.

The next guard she came to she pulled back his hair and slit his throat, the next was trickier, he saw her before she saw him, and she had to do a considerable amount of bullet dodging before using her pistols to shoot him once in the gut, and then in the head. She was sure her gunfire would attract more men, but it did not. For a long time she walked uninterrupted through the tunnels, and soon she heard the sound of many more voices and movement, and knew she was close.

Evelyn arrived at a gate and crouched looking in. A few rays of streetlight came in from the high roof, and cast over the huge underground base. She realized that her previous thoughts about entering the lion's den weren't all wrong. The place was like a fortress, a gigantic cage full of predators ready to strike.

She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth.

Here we go.

She opened the gate to the base, and it squeaked with rust and age. There was no way that the men in the room didn't hear, but none of them turned their weapons on her, they didn't even acknowledge her presence. Cautiously, she made her way across the metal bridge-like structure in the center of the room. There was no where else to turn, no choices. Her footsteps on the metal echoed through the vast room, and she found herself confused by the lack of action by the guards. No attack? No attention paid to her whatsoever? Was she just idiotically walking into a trap?

She arrived at a small staircase, at the top of which seemed to be coming the most movement and light.

The situation was extremely odd, and Evelyn kept her hands poised above her pistols as she walked up each step slowly, carefully and when she arrived at the top she found herself at the control center of the operation. A large board was covered with various images and diagrams like something from a crime drama. Photographs of some people she recognized, people of interest in Gotham; Jim Gordon, Harvey Dent, Bruce Wayne, Jonathan, herself, and mostly, the Batman.

Evelyn hardly took notice of this though, for he stood before her, a monolith of a man, quite possibly one of the most imposing figures that she had ever seen in her life. It was not just his size the made him so intimidating, it was the way he held himself, and the air about him. He stood still, and calm, silently commanding respect with his legs apart and his hands resting on the thick straps of the armored vest he wore over his clothes. Of course, the mask was probably one of the most unsettling things about the man- each breath filtered to be heard, and partially disguising his face and in turn his emotions. The only thing she could read about him was his eyes, and they too were dark, and glittered with intensity.

She took in everything she could about him, from his large and muscular arms to his legs rooted to the ground like tree-trunks, and as she looked at this hulking mass of a man, Evelyn found herself for the first time in years contemplating running away. Evelyn always thought that people should know when they are beaten, and she feared that this time she would be beaten before she started.

"At last we meet, Evelyn Mason."

**_... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..._**

**A shorty I'm afraid, the next one will be longer I promise. **

**First and foremost I really must thank everyone for the lovely reception to the prologue, it really is heartwarming to read such lovely reviews and have an email box full of following notifications. **

**I'm loving this story, it's so much fun to write and I hope I continue to please people reading, there's so much to do with it. **

**Once again thank you very much; please continue to review. :) **


	3. The Start

**~ The Start ~**

Evelyn's legs itched to move, and her brain screamed at her to run away. This person looked like he could squash her head in his palm like a walnut, and no amount of training or skills that she had could match brute strength. But she was not a person who would run away, Evelyn hadn't run from anything since she was a child, and she would be damned if she was going to start then. In fact, so far, Bane was not actually a threat to her, he did not attack, did not call his men to grab her, he just stood there, hands on his plated vest collar, looking at her closely. So she stayed where she was; still, watching him like he was a wild thing ready to pounce, and reminded herself who she was. Ms. M. The Masked Lady. Murderer, thief, all around crazy bitch... and as she thought on this, as she remembered all that she'd done and who she had beaten and outlived, eventually, a smile was came to her red lips.

"At last we _do_..." She dragged on her sentence. "Sorry, I don't have a name for you yet other than 'Huge Masked Man', and not only is that a mouthful it also seems _pretty_ rude to keep calling you it."

"You may call me Bane, my dear." He spoke more jovially than she had expected, and his voice was unlike anything she had ever heard before, she tried to place his accent to no avail.

"And you may call me anything but 'my dear.'" She grinned, relaxing into herself, her stance becoming more natural but still ready.

"Does Evelyn suit you?" She saw his eyebrow quirk, and his forehead wrinkle slightly under the strap of the mask. There was a flash of annoyance in her eyes at this.

"I suppose so, there's mot much point in pretending like you don't know who I am is there?"

"And yet you've worn your mask."

"I'd prefer not to have quite everyone in the room knowing who I am, and should I be followed I think it best I keep this mask on."

"Very clever of you," she was surprised by how gently he managed to speak through the mask, though his voice was naturally deep and firm, "do take a seat." He gestured to a worn looking metal table with three similarly battered chairs around it, all of different design. Evelyn walked over to the leather and wooden one, with yellow sponge seeping out of the tears in the seat and back. She kept her back straight and crossed her legs, an air of confidence around her as she watched Bane take his own seat across from her. The chair groaned under his weight, but held, and Evelyn thought of how he looked just as imposing seated as he did standing up.

"So, you're the reason that so many people went to so much trouble to find out who I am. Why?" She crossed her arms under her breasts.

"The two wounded men you sent back to me seemed to think they'd told you." He leaned his elbows on his knees, shoulders hunched slightly.

"I want to hear it from _you_." She said, leaning forward slightly.

He considered her for a moment. Looking over her pretty face, half covered by the mask. From everything he had heard, from the time spent watching her and her actions, and researching her past, he had expected they fire that he got from her. She was brave, of course, and Bane thought she would probably not hesitate to try and harm him now, where upon her arrival he was sure he had seen fear in her eyes. However, to face him down as she did was something rare, and he felt himself become more and more intrigued.

"Alright," he said. She wished she could see his mouth. She didn't like not being able to properly read someone's expressions, so she kept her eyes focused on his. "First and foremost finding out who you are was for the purpose of having something over you. Secondly it was to prove to you what we can do."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Why do you need to prove anything to little old me?"

"Your exploits in this city are famous." He said simply, with a slight shrug of his massive shoulders. "I think you could be very useful at the side of the League of Shadows. At my side."

"I've never heard of the _'League of Shadows' _and I've tried my hand at being at the side of super criminals before, and it never turned out too well. What makes you different?" She bluntly asked.

He held out his arms, and his eyes crinkled. "I am better."

"No. You're not." She replied with sharpness, before leaning forward and putting her hands on the cold surface of the table. "You're bigger, sure. You have more men, perhaps. But Scarecrow was a genius, and when it comes to criminality, _no one_ is better than the Joker was." She spoke in a low and silky tone. She had feared she had gone soft in not dropping Catwoman off the top of Wayne Tower... But no, Evelyn Mason did not go soft. She looked at his eyes. They were some of the darkest eyes she'd ever seen. Not necessarily in colour- but in intensity and depth. You'd get lost if you wandered into those eyes, she thought. "Your motives _are_ different though, aren't they?" She seemed to study him as she spoke. "Scarecrow wanted money, power, and widespread fear. Joker wanted anarchy and chaos." She licked her lips. "What do you _wan__**t**_, Bane?"

Again, he looked at her a long moment before speaking in that mechanical tinted voice of his.

"For Gotham to have the means to collapse in on itself." His voice went through her slightly and her skin prickled.

Evelyn wasn't entirely sure what he meant by this, and a frown graced her features briefly before it was gone again. When she didn't reply, he spoke.

"And I don't have _more men_, Miss Mason. I have an army. The League of Shadows, the most powerful force for justice in the world."

"Are you inducting me into the League?"

Bane laughed a low, rumbling laugh that shook his chest, and made his mask hiss.

"Becoming a member of the League of Shadows is far more difficult than that!" He boomed. Evelyn shrugged and sat back in he chair.

"I never really was one for clubs anyway," she put her feet up on the table, crossed at the ankles, "tried Brownies as a kid. Wasn't for me." She wasn't sure if he looked amused and did not much care.

"As I said before your help would be most welcome. Your position in Gotham city as well as your reputation and obvious skills are things that cannot be denied."

She looked at him closely. "What if I refuse? How do I know you won't just leave me behind?" She questioned.

"You don't know that, you'll just have to trust me. And as for if you refuse, well, we can make the _world_ come after you _Doctor_."

Evelyn shifted slightly in her chair and licked her lips. 'Gotham collapsing in on itself', it was a tempting offer no doubt. Since Scarecrow and Joker it was like she had been waiting, waiting for the next big thing. That ache in her stomach that made her want to blow something up or jump off a roof or cause mass panic had faded to something dull over the past nine years, she barely noticed it. But it was coming back. She was ready to cause some destruction.

"What would you have me do?" She asked finally. Evelyn only saw the change in his eyes, but under his mask, Bane smiled.

"We know who the Batman is." He said, and her heart leapt. This was big. They'd found something out no one else had got close to, including herself. How?

"Who is it?" She asked quickly, leaning forward again, slightly giddy.

"I cannot tell you yet." Bane replied, "until I know that you are to be trusted."

"Oooh, come on." She whined. "Pretty please." She batted her eyelashes under her mask, "pretty please with whipped cream and a cherry on top," she bit her red bottom lip.

"Not yet." He flatly replied.

"Spoil sport." She sat back again, and Bane noticed the fact that she seemed to find it difficult to keep still.

"Your high position in society can be useful," he carried on, "access to people and so forth."

"I can't go back to that life for long, I can't risk anyone else knowing who I am. I need to abandon it." She said quickly.

His eyebrows rose. "So our leverage over you is useless?"

"Not useless, but less effective than you may have hoped." She smiled and rested her hands on her stomach. "But I will help you, because watching this city eat itself just sounds like _so much fun_."

"Would you be sympathetic to the cause if we did not know your identity?" He asked out of genuine curiosity.

"Perhaps. But then again, I would much rather the big bad guys in the city knew who I was then the good little people."

"Why is that?"

She'd said too much, and mentally scolded herself.

"My reasons are my own." She shortly replied. There was a slight quiet between them again in which he didn't take his eyes from her, and Evelyn found herself not liking him to look at her so closely. She wasn't entirely sure why and she was somewhat relieved when he spoke again.

"I have many questions for you, but I shan't ask them here."

"Good, discussing dastardly plans in a sewer cistern is a first for me." She wrinkled up her nose. "Y'ever heard of Glade? Bunch of flowers maybe?" She stood. "Might brighten the place up." She looked around to see if any of the guards faces cracked at her chiding, but got nothing.

To her complete and utter surprise, Bane held is hand cross the table to her for her to shake. She wasn't used to those kind of manners from criminals. But then again, Bane was no ordinary criminal.

"Was a pleasure. We'll be in touch." He said. Evelyn looked at his hand, her demeanor wavering slightly in her shock, before taking the offered hand. She resisted a wince at his grip. He took her hand ever so gently, but his strength still meant that his hand engulfing hers hurt somewhat. He let go, and she sent him a nod.

"Don't be too long, sweetie. I like you." Her eyebrow quirked, and she smiled, before turning on her heel toward the stairs.

It was only when she once again mounted her motorcycle that she started to properly consider her encounter with Bane. The voice of doubt at the back of her mind began to poke at her common sense. It just felt to easy. He'd divulged so much to her on their first meeting; it just didn't seem right. Although, he hadn't told her everything. She believed him when he said he'd found out who the Batman was, and he didn't let her know that. Perhaps he really did just want her help, and that he told her what he told her to ensure she was on side. Perhaps she was even more infamous than she thought herself.

She laughed to herself, 'impossible.'

The voice in the back of her mind told her it was all too good to be true, and history had taught her that when something was too good to be true, it probably wasn't.

**_... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..._**

**_Two and a Half Weeks Later_**

Evelyn moved herself back into one of the nicer neighborhoods for the brief time she had agreed to carry on with her 'normal' life. She would do what needed to be done in terms of what Bane asked if her, and tie up a few loose ends before entirely devoting herself to the cause. There was no denying that Evelyn had a penchant for chaos and destruction, as well as the people that caused chaos and destruction, and as she had said to Crane so many years ago, she wanted to watch the city burn rather than be left in the cinders.

The rain came down heavily, beating on the windows and bouncing in thick droplets of the pavement. Evelyn had always enjoyed to watch the rain from the window. Partly it was the noise and the smell it left behind, partly it was the thoroughly amusing sight of people sloshing through puddles and getting their nice trousers soaked. She was eating Cheerios at kitchen table in her most comfortable blue robe as she followed the water running down the glass, and saw the top of a tree across the road shake violently in the blustery weather. She found herself considering how it would look if someone were to walk in at that moment. So normal. Like an actual, normal human being.

"I do like Cheerios." She said out loud to herself. She took a large mouthful, and eyed the letter on the table before her. Calligraphic writing on pristine paper, her name printed on the front, grandly. It was an invitation to a charity gala she had no choice but to attend, for the purpose of refurbishing the medical wing of Arkham Asylum. It sounded hellish to her, but it would look far too odd if she didn't attend.

She unscrewed the bottle of Lamb's resting in the middle of the table beside the Tropicana and flower vase, and checked her watch, which read 11:59am in angry red lines. Evelyn sighed and rested her elbow on the table, keeping an eye her watch and tapping her table rhythmically. _54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59. _12:00pm!

With a grin, she poured a quantity of the rum over her Cheerios, and mixed them together, before taking a mouthful.

"Mmm, like a crunchy White Russian."

She considered that this was probably a little bit less normal, and sat back in her chair, thinking out her alibi for her absence from work, and topping up her cereal when the bowl depleted too much. This was until a heavy knock on her door broke her from her reverie, and she stood and headed through the very open plan living area to the door, absentmindedly touching the knife strapped to her thigh before opening it.

There stood a large man in motorbike helmet, and leather gear, and Evelyn knew who it was right away, thanks to the sound of the mask and his build unlike any other. Water dripped off the shining helmet and seemed to soak the leather trousers and jacket he wore.

"Good afternoon, but I didn't order pizza." She stepped back and let him in. He didn't speak as he stepped passed her into her living room and removed his helmet. Evelyn didn't worry about her mask; it seemed rather irrelevant given the circumstances. Still, she couldn't help but feel slightly exposed in her nightwear and lack of her usually painstakingly applied makeup. He set his helmet down on her kitchen table, and unzipped his wet jacket.

"My apologies for dropping in on you unannounced." He said with the utmost politeness, and Evelyn couldn't tell whether or not he was joking. She wasn't sure she'd ever get used to that voice either, she couldn't decide if it was good to hear or just strange and still couldn't place is accent.

"Not a problem at all. I'm guessing you're not her for Cheerios though." She quirked an eyebrow and took his jacket from his hands, before laying it over the back of her kitchen chair. He wore a white vest under his coat, un-plated this time, so she could see the defined and bulky muscles of his chest against the thin material. Christ, he was built like a fucking house.

Bane noticed her looking at him, and wondered if she was frightened by his presence. If she was, she didn't show it, and it was even more difficult for her to disguise her true emotions without her eye-mask. He noted her lack of makeup, just the faded grey on her eyelids and the tint of unnatural pink to the outside of her lips. She didn't look unpleasant without it, he thought.

"I came here to ask you a question." He said, and she sat down at the kitchen table, offering him a seat with her hand, which he took. The chair creaked ominously.

"Shoot."

"Do you by any chance have access to Arkham Asylum security?" He asked, eyeing the bottle of rum beside the milk on the table.

"Some. But I'm just a Doctor, I have access to it as far as I can order security guards to open doors for me. It's all electronic you see, split up." She raised her eyebrow. She did that a lot. "_Why_?" She slyly asked with a smile.

"Is it possible for you to get access to all the security?" He didn't answer her question.

"It's possible... I'm almost as good a thief as I am a psychiatrist. As I'm sure you've found out already I'm pretty high up. But if I got hold to all the security codes it'd be a fucker to actually y'know, open any doors without about fifty people noticing." She picked up her bowl, and took it over to the sink.

He watched her rinse out the dregs of the bowl.

"Would it be possible to open every cell door at once?" He asked. She paused in her actions very suddenly, and put the bowl down in the sink. She turned to face him and there was no amusement or sarcasm on her face.

"You _wouldn't_ want to open every cell at once." She said firmly, and crossed the kitchen to sit back down at the table again. "Arkham isn't just criminals. It houses some of the most mentally deranged in the world. I'm talking child rapists, Bane." She sat close to him, and leaned forward slightly as she spoke, looking him dead in the eye. "I'm talking people who would kill women and then hang their bodies in their houses for days, people who would pin down a person and physically _eat them alive_- people like that _need_ to be locked up. They don't have allegiances, or goals, they don't think for themselves." She licked her lips, and did not break eye contact. When Bane didn't reply she spoke again. "If I'm going to help you out I need you to listen to my advice when I know more about something than you."

Eventually, he nodded in consent.

"Alright," He said, "that seems fair."

"Good." She replied, and leaned back again. "Now, was that all you wanted?"

Her demeanor changed very quickly, she was once again much more easy and relaxed, as if they were two friends having a conversation over breakfast, although this was so far from being the case.

"I believe so yes," he stood, and the chair seemed to sigh with relief, "is there anything you feel I should know?" He picked up his coat and shook it slightly.

"Just that I've got this charity gala in a few weeks," she shrugged, "fancy being my date? I'd bet you look great in a tux." She smirked, and he found himself slightly amused.

"I will be seeing you soon." He sent her a polite nod again, before letting himself out of the house.

He left behind him the smell of leather, paper and ink, and Evelyn wondered just how much more to him there was than what met the eye.

* * *

Evelyn walked the aisles of the boutique, running her hand over the different materials and eyeing the various dresses and outfits carefully. She'd never been too interested in expensive clothes, but a beautiful dress could catch her eye and make her swoon, so she didn't limit herself to only the most fancy of places. However, any clothes shop was ridiculously tedious. There was always some patronizing girl barely out of her teen years to come and try to 'help' her out and the music was an assault on the ears. She found a lovely black fitted dress that would cap her shoulders and meet her knees. The next purchase was a pair of high, shining black shoes, and finally she found herself in lingerie, looking for a nice pair of stockings.

She happened to glance up in that moment, at saw across from her a girl she hadn't seen in years. Natasha Brown. Quite possibly the biggest fucker Evelyn had ever met, and that was saying something.

...

**_Way back then_**

_Lisa Locke tucked her hands firmly in her pocket and kept her eyes trained on the floor of the hallway as she walked by a large group of girls and boys. Her unkempt mousy brown hair bounced slightly round her ears, and she rubbed her hands together in the pocket of the deliberately oversized hoodie she wore to cover her chunky body, it was faded and grey, and she sort of hoped it would camouflage her. She focused on the squeak of her sneakers, started to count the trodden down gum she stepped over. 3, 4..._

_"__Heeey, Lisa." It didn't work. Apparently pretending that you're invisible does not actually make it so. Natasha stood in her path, giggling friends at her side, boys leaning against the lockers and sniggering. She had a good half a foot of height on Lisa, and was pristine from her perfect hair to her fashionable and spotless shoes. She wore far too much makeup, but her face was undoubtedly pretty, and she looked much older than her young age of sixteen. Lisa looked a bit younger than her age, both because of her frame and her youthful face. _

_"__Hi, Natasha." She said quietly, and straightened her glasses on her nose uncomfortably. _

_"__I was just uh- wondering Lisa," she sent glances at her laughing friends with a smirk, "if you'd ever considered like, braces?" Her friends giggled uncontrollably, and there were choruses of, 'you can' say that!' and 'you're so bad!' Lisa felt herself blush with embarrassment and anger, and self-consciously closed her lips over her front teeth which were a little too big for her mouth and stuck out slightly. "I don't wanna sound like a bitch like, but, y'know, it could make a big difference."_

_Lisa looked at the floor, "fuck off Natasha." The boys 'ooh'd' and Lisa went to walk passed, but the girls closed in, not allowing her to continue down the hallway. _

_"__Hey, you can't talk to me like that you little fucking weirdo," Natasha let down her guise of mock kindness now. _

_Lisa tried to push herself through the blockade of girls weakly, but they stopped her, and laughed hysterically, as did the boys. Lisa felt herself become slightly upset, but would not cry. She stepped back._

_"__Just let me pass, please?" Her upset was evident in her voice._

_"__Aww, gonna cry?" Natasha stuck out her bottom lip in mocking. "Jail-bird's kid." Her voice was venomous, and her friends 'ooh'd' again like she'd made some terribly witty remark. Lisa's eyes darkened and she looked up at Natasha. "No reply? I thought you were meant to be smart, huh?" She shoved her shoulder slightly. "Not quite as tough as your daddy, huh?" _

_It happened so quickly no one knew what was happening. Lisa had hold of the front of Natasha's shirt, and with strength she herself didn't know she had, she shoved her back against the locker with a loud bang that echoed through the hallway. Lisa didn't really control her actions much for the next five minutes or so. _

_... _

_Lisa barely heard the berating she received from the headmaster, she barely heard her mother crying as he recounted what had happened. She just looked at her cracked knuckles, and the blood drying there and listened to the ticking of the clock. She wasn't sure at what point she'd stopped repeatedly punching Natasha in the face, but she knew that when she'd finally been dragged off her by her friends, Natasha's face was barely recognizable. _

_Part of her thought after that day things might get a bit better. That maybe, somehow, being considered a psycho would make people more likely to leave her alone. Of course this was not the case. Being considered a psycho meant that it was everyone's daily mission to see if they could push her to the brink of cracking again. It also became Natasha and her friends goal in life to make her as miserable as possible. Be that leaving road kill in her locker or leaving chewing gum on her chair before she sat down. _

_Lisa Locke hated school. _

**_... _**

Evelyn shook off the memory of her previous self as she found herself gripping the stockings in her hands tightly. She could kill Natasha now, and get away with it. She could start abandoning her life early and choke her with a pair of tights or just flat out beat her to death. She _could_, but that did not mean that she _would_.

So, Evelyn picked up the stockings, turned her back on Natasha, and took them to the counter, biting back her rage and smiling serenely at the girl on the counter. Torso-Man was going to get it bad when she got home.

Evelyn hated little flashes of her past on the rare occasions that they showed up in her life. There was a time when it hurt, but as time went on it just made her angry. It made her angry to remember how _weak_ she once was, how she let people walk all over her for so long before realizing that she was worth so much more than that. She recalled when she started to bleach her hair, and put on makeup, and her teeth didn't look quite so big for her mouth anymore. Her body evened out, she got breasts, she got a waist, her skin cleared up, she started wearing contacts. People were nice to her. But by that point it was too late. Everybody likes a pretty face and Evelyn did not have time for people who _only_ liked a pretty face. As she beat the face of Torso-Man that night, she didn't allow herself to think about Lisa Locke, because she was Evelyn Mason.

**_... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..._**

Over the coming days, Bane's visits to Evelyn's home became more and more often, to the point where she knew that if she heard that heavy clunking knock on the door that it would be him. At times, their conversations would stray outside work, and both were surprised by the other continually. Evelyn came to notice how very well read and intelligent he seemed to be, and wondered when he'd had time to study anything. Equally, from Evelyn Bane had expected intelligence of course, but when she wasn't joking or mocking flirtatiousness, she spoke like no one else he had ever met before. She articulated herself like a scholar at times, and Bane in turn wondered when she'd had the time to educate herself outside the science of the psyche. The mask became less and less strange until it did not faze her at all, and his voice became softer on the ear. Still couldn't work out his accent, but she found herself enjoying it. She also became better at reading mood by his eyes, a handy skill to have, she thought, when the man was capable of squashing her.

Evelyn returned to work to much sympathy and many taps on the shoulder, but was somewhat glad to return to her patients and get back into her work. That about her was not fake- her study of the human mind and her curiosity for madness and criminality was entirely true. It was one of the few things that she would miss, but she somehow got the feeling that she would be spending plenty more time around criminals as Bane's plans progressed.

She never sought out Bane, it was always him that dropped in on her, but over the past days she had been looking into the security at Arkham. The flaws, the strengths, the people who knew the codes and the people who knew nothing, so she decided it was time for her to take a trip down underground again. She did not know exactly which of men knew her identity and which did, but still she assumed her black attire and mask. She received no trouble from the guards of course, and eventually arrived at the gated base of Bane's operation. However, upon arrival, she spotted a very unwelcome visitor.

On the bridge stood Selina Kyle, of course in her Catwoman apparel, hands behind her back and speaking to the henchman Evelyn recognized a Barsad. He was the only one she knew by name, as Bane spoke often of him.

Evelyn opened the gate, and did not mince words.

"What's this bitch doing here?" She asked, crossing her arms. Catwoman eyed Evelyn closely as she stepped forward, and Evelyn saw the flicker of fear in her eyes, and noted the not quite healed cup above her lip that she had tried to cover with makeup. Catwoman stood steadfast, and crossed her arms also.

"She is gathering very important information for us," Barsad explained, voice calm and even, hand resting delicately on his weapon.

"We're on the same side." Catwoman's voice was smooth and feigned confidence, but she had an edge of beseeching, as if she were trying to appeal to Evelyn's sense of 'unity.'

Evelyn gave a cruel laugh that shook her chest. "You're not on a side _Ca__**t. **_Don't try to fucking act like you are, you're not that good an actress." She stepped forward a few paces, her boots clunking, so she were only a few feet from Catwoman, who did not shy away, but whose throat moved as she swallowed. Evelyn leaned closer, as if she were going to kiss the Cat. "Just remember what I said to you the last time we met. And know that the same applies for betraying my associates." The tone of her voice had lowered, and was silken.

"I'm not afraid of you." Catwoman replied, looking Evelyn dead in the eye bravely. Evelyn chuckled, and flicked open her blade, watching the Cat a she flinched at the sound of the scraping metal. She had not noticed that Evelyn even had the knife in her hand. Evelyn laughed manically, waving the knife around.

"I thought you weren't afraid of me!" She exclaimed, jumping slightly on the spot. Catwoman looked angry, but did not move. "Or is it this you're afraid of?" She waved the sparkling pocketknife in front of her face. "Afraid I'll hurt that _pretty face_ of yours?" She spoke with poison, and her face flickered between utter amusement and deadly seriousness.

"The Joker really rubbed off on you."

Catwoman's fist flew toward her gut, but Evelyn saw the blow coming, and stopped her fist shy of her stomach by gripping her wrist tightly, her superior strength better that Cat's reflexes.

"Now now," Evelyn pulled her forward, hand still firmly holding her wrist bruisingly, and bringing it to her side so that Selina was pressed against her and Evelyn's blade was at her neck, "no need to lose your temper now, sweetie. And yeah, the Joker did rub off on me. Wanna see a few _tricks_?" Catwoman tore away her hand, and Evelyn allowed the other woman to step back, smiling, and flipping her knife closed. "Let's get coffee sometime."

Catwoman looked at her venomously, before stepping round Evelyn and making her way out. Evelyn watched her leave, before making her way up the stairs. She had not noticed until she almost ran into the brick wall of a man at the top that Bane had watched the whole thing unfold.

"Oh, hi." She said brightly, and he did not reply. She couldn't tell if he was angry or not, he just turned and stepped away so she could get to the makeshift office space. "You can't trust her, you know."

Evelyn didn't know why she noticed what he was wearing every time she saw him. She supposed it was because it always surprised her that he could get clothes to fit him properly, but guessed that there were men much larger than him through fat and not muscle. On this particular day, he wore his usually cargo trousers and a very fitted long sleeved black shirt, every muscle defined as if he were just wearing a vest again.

She decided not to sit down.

"I know that I cannot trust her. That's why she knows very little." His eyes crinkled at the corners. "You are still my number one lady." He said zestfully. Evelyn loudly laughed at this.

"Oh, I like it when you have a sense of humour," she grinned.

"I must say it was rather enjoyable to see you in action right before my eyes." Bane admitted with honesty, and sat himself down at the table. "Now, I have admit my surprise at your show of loyalty when speaking to the Cat Lady." He uncapped his fountain pen and continued to write something in a language Evelyn couldn't recognize from where she stood. He didn't hold his pen properly, but his writing came out beautifully.

She snorted, and leaned on the table in front of him. He looked up at her questioningly.

"Don't mistake me respecting your cause for loyalty. Don't forget that I've had little choice in this. But yes, I'm a woman of my word, I defend who I'm working with, but if you gave me reason to let you get hurt, I'd let you get hurt." She smirked, and looked him up and down. "Although seeing someone try to hurt you could be _pretty_ funny."

He seemed to examine her a moment after she spoke.

"What was it you came here for?"

"Ah, of course," she stood up straight, "I have some information about Arkham Security."

* * *

Soon enough, the day of the charity gala arrived, and Evelyn found herself observing her reflection in the full length mirror, with a cloud of blue-grey cigar smoke making it's way from the ashtray on her dresser, and her third scotch sitting beside it. As she turned to observe herself from all angles, she thought that she would much rather face a hundred armed goons than undergo a night with the rich and elite of Gotham. Although, she did believe she rather shone with her outfit choice. The modest black dress that reached her knees and clung to her curves, accenting her hips, waist and breasts, and smoothing out any unwanted lump, although they had decreased of late thanks to her upping the intensity of her training. She wore the lovely delicate stockings she had purchased with a classy seam up the backs of the legs, and on her feet placed the shining heels, pristine and perfect. Evelyn was not usually one to wear her hair up, but on this night she did, pinning the unruly blonde curls onto the back of her head so that they formed a high and messy bun.

Evelyn Mason looked good.

Her night was spent schmoozing, and flirting, and smiling through her teeth at exactly the kind of people that she would petrol bomb. But on this night, she shook their hands, asked about their children, pretended like she was one of them, and did a very good job of it. She sat at the table she was sharing with a few other people, legs crossed, champagne in her fingers as she vaguely listened to the conversation around her. They were talking about Bruce Wayne. Fucking Bruce Wayne.

"Well I heard that he suffered an accident and his face was horribly disfigured, doesn't want to be seen in public anymore." The woman speaking was only a little older than Evelyn but spoke as if she were a much older woman, with an extremely affected high-class accent.

"That's just a silly rumour, Maven." The man sitting beside her replied, in that equally irritating accent. "The man simply got tired of his celebrity and became a recluse."

Evelyn fought back a laugh, and decided that she would have at least _some_ form of fun.

"Actually, neither of you are right," they looked surprised that she was finally contributing to conversation. "My a friend of a friend used to work in his kitchen, told me exactly what happened." She spoke as if she were telling some great secret, smirk on her lips, and leaning forward on one elbow. They leaned forward eagerly.

"Well, what was it?" One of the men urged. Evelyn bit the inside of her mouth.

"Keep this under your hats," she spoke quietly, "but he was involved in some, ahem, _questionable_ activity when it came to his," she lowered a voice to a whisper, "_sexual preferences_." Their faces looked a mixture of shocked, disgusted and fiendishly delighted. "Apparently he was 'cause pleasuring himself and uh..." She did the motion of wrapping something around her neck in the air, and they gasped. "From what _I_ heard, he started to practice these illicit activities at certain places in the Narrows," she looked at their stupid, incredulous faces, and wondered how far she could push it, "got caught paying a nineteen year old Filipino boy to hit him with a riding crop," she held up her hands, "allegedly."

They all looked thoroughly surprised and acted as if they were thoroughly repulsed by the information and not, as they in fact were, irreverently excited by the idea that Bruce Wayne was in fact some sort of sexual deviant. Evelyn had to excuse herself for the bathroom so she could let out her laughter thoroughly before returning. She was asked to dance a few times, and accepted a couple, and eventually, finally, it was time for her to leave. She would have gladly run across the grand hall of the hotel, but thought it would be near impossible in the shoes she wore.

It was raining again when she stepped outside, and she took the first cab that came her way. Not bothering to shield her hair from the pouring water as she waited for it to pull up and slipped in the bag.

"34 Castle Way, please." She crossed her legs, and saw the driver's green take a good look at her thigh in the rearview mirror. She could teach him a few manners, but the copious glasses of champagne on top of her pre-battle scotches meant that home was a much more attractive prospect at that time. She leaned her head on the glass and watched the street roll by outside, that dull ache forming behind her eyes that said she had probably had one too many, and that it was beddy-byes time for this super villain. She noticed that the driver was driving the long way to her house rather than the quicker as they began to enter the Narrows. The houses got more shoddy, the shops got a lot cheaper, and the streetlights were more often broken than not.

She lifted her head from the glass to look at the driver.

"Can you do a U-turn here man? I just wanna get home quick." The driver didn't reply, and as her suspicion intensified and she went to sit forward, the driver turned the wheel extremely sharply, and the sound of skidding tyres filled the air. Her body, unrestrained by the seatbelt jerked to the side, and her head smacked into the window painfully, the glass shattering somewhat and cutting her head.

Dazed and confused, Evelyn reached out her hands and grabbed the leather of the drivers seat in front of her for support, but could only vaguely see the colour of her hands blurring into the black of the car. The pain shooting through her head felt as if someone were standing on her head with all their weight. She scrambled round her to find the door handle, but before she could do so she felt hands gripping tightly under her armpits and dragging her from the car. Her knees scraped the pavement, her stockings ripped, her skin grazed. She was on all fours on the wet pavement and could just barely see the floor in front of her. The the fresh air helped her to slightly regain her senses, but before she could make any action to move, she felt the unmistakable sensation of a needle sticking into the side of her neck, and the cold of whatever liquid was inside it flowing through her veins, obscuring her vision once more and making each of her limbs feel heavy. She could make no attempt to block the swift kick that came to her side, knocking her onto her back.

"Sorry, Miss M." The operative thought she had in her brain told her to try and memorize the voice, but all she could think of was the way her body seemed to paralyze, and the cold concrete under her back. The next form of pain came hard and vast, a blade sunk in below her ribs, and was pulled out again, leaving her to cry out in straggled pain and reach blindly around to try and strike her attacker, the weak fist she managed to make finding only the back of a leg, and making no difference. The pain was somewhat blunted by whatever she had been injected with, but still felt excruciating.

She scratched around on the floor, lifting her increasingly heavy feeling head sand trying her best to look around. All she knew was that she was in the Narrows, but any monument or marker to her location melted away. She felt a little drool on her chin, humiliatingly, and could not even wipe it away.

No. Blackness. Arms won't move. So tired. Sleep.

**_... ... ... ... _**

Bane lifted the woman easily in his arms. She was heavier than he had expected, built far more solidly, her womanly curves masking the muscle underneath, but still it took no effort to hold her head in the crook of his arm and her legs behind the knees. He knew it was bound to happen eventually that she would be caught unprepared and harmed, but he did not think it would be quite so soon. It was odd to see this woman, who, granted, he had only known for a short space of time, looking so very helpless. She'd turned onto her stomach, and her body was stretched from wasted effort. One of the men he'd had keeping an eye her that night had reported to him that she had been stabbed, and he had acted quickly.

Her head was bruised where it had suffered some trauma, and her limbs were somewhat paralyzed from the after effects of the drug still, but of course the biggest problem was the wound below her ribs, the blood from which now soaking the dress she wore.

He'd never seen her look so peaceful, than in that moment in his arms, head lolled back, neck exposed, eyes closed gently, and her arms not ready to grab a weapon or throw a punch. But the lack of colour from her already pale face did concern him somewhat, her lips were now close to grey and seemed thinner, and from what he had noticed on a few occasions, they were usually rather pink and full.

Eventually, they were back at base, where he set to work on removing her dress and attending to her wound, and for every time she winced in her drug-induced sleep at his touch, his anger grew at whoever did this to her.

They would pay dearly.

* * *

**UPDATE: I've made a few changes to this, I still feel it's a little rushed though, I dunno. **

_**Once again, thank you so much for all the kind reviews and following this story, truly lovely to see every time.  
I'm not entirely sure I'm happy with this chapter, if I could I maybe would have more thoroughly proof read and altered a few things, but as I'm going to a Wi-Fi free zone this weekend I thought that I would get in finished and see how people liked it. I'm aware that it's a little choppy and a lot seems to happen at once, but once Bane and Evelyn are together more frequently, I think that the story will flow a little more smoothly, (I hope).**_

_**Please do review, would be lovely to come back to, (unless you all hated it, in which case, be gentle!) **_

_**-EJ**_


	4. Exercise

**I genuinely surprised myself when I looked at the update date and saw how long ago I posted a chapter. I have myriad excuses but I think you'd rather finally continue the story. See you at the other side. **

* * *

The pain shooting through the right side of her body was what finally woke her up. Her hand instinctively shot to her ribs and she blinked open her bleary eyes. It took a moment for them to adjust to the bright daylight in the room. She didn't recognize where she was, and clearly her contact lenses had been removed for the edges of each piece of furniture in the room were blurred. Slowly, she sat up on her elbows, feeling the comfortable bed and soft sheets underneath her that were not her own. Her fingers found the source of the pain, and she felt the gauze material of neatly bound fresh bandages over what felt like a stab wound. Her mind was fuzzy, just now trying to cope with the new location. 'What the _fuck_ happened?'

"Do not try to sit up yet," the deep voice with the metallic tint to it made her jump slightly, and she looked over at the source. The shape of Bane stood at the other side of the room, and became clearer the closer he walked to her. "Here," he held out a pair of thick rimmed glasses to her, and she took them gingerly, before placing them on her face, "I had your contact lenses removed and the glasses were found in your house."

She looked at him clearly now, confusion evident on her face.

"Uh... Where am I?" She ignored his advice to pull herself upright on the bed. Her side ached badly and she winced slightly, although managing to prop herself up on the metal headboard.

"My home," he replied, lifting a glass of water from the nightstand beside her, and offering it, "I'm afraid it's not as grand as yours."

She took the water, looking at him with suspicion lingering in her eyes. She looked at the water a second, fingers breaking through the layer of condensation on the tumbler, and decided that it was no threat before bringing it to her dry lips. She didn't notice how thirsty she was until she started drinking, and soon the cold glass was drained.

He sat on the bed beside her and she felt herself raised on the mattress when it dipped under his weight.

It slowly came back to her. The gala, the cab, getting drugged, and, (she grimaced at the thought), getting stabbed. The question that remained unanswered, however, was how she ended up in this bed, wearing not her dress, but a white tank top and some jogging pants, bandaged and alive.

"What exactly am I doing here then, did you just fancy seeing me with my clothes off?" She set down the empty glass. "If you wanted to sneak a peak you coulda just asked."

"You're in unusually high spirits for someone who was stabbed two days ago." He commented.

"I've had wor-" She stopped when his words properly registered. "Two days ago?"

"Yes, you've been asleep since Friday night, it's Sunday morning." He said very simply.

"Christ," she touched the top of her head, "how much blood did I lose?" She scratched her messed up hair.

Evelyn shifted in the bed and lifted her t-shirt up to below her bra, examining the neat, clean bandages; she went to unravel them, but he leaned forward and gripped her wrists to stop her hands. She couldn't hide how his grip hurt, his large hand easily wrapping around her comparatively tiny wrist. He saw her flinch ever so slightly in pain and let go with haste.

"Do not remove those yet." He ordered. "You lost a lot less than you could have, whatever drug your attacker gave you what was knocked you out."

It was just as she had feared. It had got out who she was, and people were trying to end her while she was unprepared. Really, she knew that it was bound to happen eventually, people had been after her identity a lot longer than Catwoman, it just so happened that it had corresponded with her working with Bane. She supposed she was lucky, who else would have come to patch her up? She hardly had that many friends.

"Hey uh..." She scratched the back of her neck, somewhat embarrassed. "Thanks, for you know, taking care of me and all." She said with as much sincerity as she could muster. She did mean it, but expressing gratitude was not her strong suit. He saw her throat move as she swallowed and sensed her discomfort. It was odd for him to see her vulnerable.

"You're a very valuable asset to me." He said finally. "And I do not believe that you deserve to die so pathetically." He stood, and his mask hissed.

Something about his words irked her slightly. She supposed the fact that she had got to close to dying 'pathetically' bothered her more than she thought. Him seeing it happen bothered her further. Concussed, poisoned, stabbed and left on the street. It would not have happened ten years ago, she would not have let her guard down like that and she would _not_ have to have been saved by a man.

She shifted to swing her legs off the end of the bed, and he stepped back to give her space.

"What will you do now?" He asked as she got to her feet slowly, her legs heavy and aching from lack of use.

"I'll keep my fuckin' guard up for now, that's what. When your plans get moving and it doesn't much matter if people know who I am, Evelyn Mason can die." She crossed the room to the full-length mirror that stood against a wall, and he watched her as she clearly bit back any pain she was in, and forced her body to co-operate. "Until then I can handle myself. I won't be so stupid again." He saw her put her hand on the wall and wince, leaning there a moment.

"Does it hurt terribly?" He asked, and she couldn't place the tone of his voice. Part of her thought it sounded rather challenging, as if he dared her to admit she were in pain. Perhaps though it was genuine concerned. He was so unreadable.

"It's nothing." She replied gruffly, and continued painfully to the mirror. He watched her dismiss her pain and fatigue as not to appear weak, and felt his respect for her grow further. She just felt ridiculous, and embarrassed to be in such pain. When she reached the mirror, she rested one hand on the wall beside it and looked at her self. Drained skin, dark eyes, dry lips, bruises, cuts. She was used to all of this, but it didn't make it any more pleasant.

"You may be stronger than some of my best men." He spoke with a hint of amusement again.

She barked out a small laugh that made her wound sting. "Stronger than your best men put together." A small grin was on her lips, and she turned to face him, trying to straighten her back.

"How?" His question was genuine, and it took her by surprise slightly. She licked her lips.

"I think I've answered plenty of your questions over the past few weeks about myself. I may have some for you." Her eyebrow quirked, and he eyed her a moment. Damn his eyes, they rarely gave anything away.

"Later," he replied, "for now, you should eat."

Evelyn did in fact eat; she was surprised to find that Bane had taken an abandoned apartment as his own not far from a sewer entrance, and was even more surprised that it was quite decent, not the Ritz but not the worst place she had ever slept in either. Bane did not stick around for the entirety of her recuperation; while the wound healed (not as quickly as she willed it to), his presence was evident in the house but she barely saw him. She knew he had been around only by the fact that there would be a different book open on the kitchen table every morning, and the shower floor was sometimes already wet when she got in. It was difficult to imagine him doing something as normal as showering. 'Did that thing on his face not rust?'

They spoke a little when he was around, she never asked what he was reading, bur occasionally she would join him and mention her reading material. What was enjoyable when she talked about psychology or pharmacology was that he always seemed interested. Half his face was obstructed, but his eyes never left her, and he always allowed her to speak before returning to his own book.

If there was anything that Evelyn hated it was being stuck in one place, especially if it was due to someone getting the jump on her, and not being privy to Bane's plans nearly as much as she would have liked to have been bothered her. She occasionally spoke to work colleagues on the phone when they asked when her bereavement leave would end, as well as one of Bane's men who she didn't know the name of but who she guessed must be lower in the ranks as he was the one who brought her groceries.

Barsad's was a face she saw a lot on her occasional sewer visits, and who she only spoke to on a particularly rainy day as she sat at the kitchen table, eating a slice of toast and enjoying her first day bandage free.

"Bane would like to speak with you." He said in that accent she had yet to place, standing with his back straight and his face typically stoic. Evelyn raised her eyebrow and crossed her ankles on the tabletop. She still only bothered wearing sweatpants and a tank top, and looked supremely relaxed in comparison to Barsad's uniform nature. His eyes briefly glanced at the odd socks on her feet.

"I'm eating peanut butter on toast. You want some?" She offered him the plate of four slices. She never had been one to watch what she ate, though decided she could justify the carbs as being necessary for recuperation. Barsad merely shook his head, not looking particularly amused or annoyed. "Or I baked some chocolate cupcakes earlier. I'm actually pretty good at baking, y'know." She nodded toward the buns that sat on the counter, the pile of dirty pots and pans in the sink beside them. "I'm not just killing and stealing."

Evelyn's grin did nothing to crack Barsad, and, somewhat disappointed, she sighed and stood, leaving the plate on the table.

"Gimmie five minutes, 'kay?" She said, not waiting for an answer before heading into her bedroom. Not bothering with changing into better clothes, she found some black lace up boots and slipped them on, before pulling up her hair and checking her face in the mirror. She looked better now; not particularly glamorous, but not hideous either. After a quick spray of deodorant, she marched back into the kitchen, her usual swagger back in place.

She was incredibly pleased to find Barsad now leaning on the kitchen counter, a half eaten cupcake in hand and crumbs on the corner of his mouth. There was a glint of childish guilt in his eye when she smiled widely at him.

"I knew there was a naughty boy under that hard exterior." She hopped across the kitchen to him, "Ready to go?" She poked him gently in the stomach, before playfully winking and heading to the door. He followed behind her, fighting a rare smile from his lips.

The two didn't speak while they made their way into the sewers. Evelyn did not notice the way Barsad made a mental note of the lack of pain she seemed to show from her injury when climbing down the ladder. Her walking pace was normal and her expression remained even throughout the journey.

"You bake well." Barsad said softly, just before he opened the gate to the base. Evelyn glanced at him with genuine surprise, and he looked as though he never even spoke, allowing her to walk through the gate in front of him.

"Thanks." She said, briefly marveling at the normality of that brief interchange compared with its location. The walk down the runway and up the metal stairs had become all too familiar, as was the sight of Bane hunched over a table, writing or typing quickly, always completely focused on his task.

"Guess _who_?" She sang, stepping behind him. Were she feeling particularly bold she would have risked tickling his vast back, though the phrase 'playing with the bull 'til you get it's horns up your ass' sprang to mind.

"There are not many other people that would speak to me like that." He turned on his chair to face her, sounding somewhat amused, as he often seemed to when they spoke. "Besides, you walk very distinctively. You should be more light footed." He casually neatened up the ink-covered papers on his table and place them at the edge.

"I am when I need to be." She sat on Bane's desk beside him and crossed her legs. "What did you want to see me about?" She asked brightly.

The mask did not phase her anymore, but the more she saw it the more she wondered about it's purpose. Its noise when he breathed and the fact she had literally never seen him without it suggested it obviously had more of a purpose than simply hiding something. She wondered briefly if it was perhaps permanent, but then realized how stupid that was because he obviously had to eat.

"It's time for you to get back to work." He pushed himself off from the metal chair, which sighed with relief, and stood to full height, his head now several feet above hers. "We have much to discuss." With that, he headed past the computers at his usual leisurely pace, and made down some stairs that Evelyn had never noticed before. She hopped off the table and followed him, wrinkling up her nose at the damp, stale stench of the place.

"You really sure you won't consider a new base? Abandoned warehouses usual work pretty well." They were heading further down into the depths of the place; it was also significantly darker and devoid of the guards from the upstairs.

"Jesus, how big is this place?" They arrived at a fairly wide round space with three gated tunnels leading off, rather than the metal of the floor above, all that was around was wet stone, uneven underfoot and with a thin layer of green algae.

He ignored her question, sauntering across the cavernous room.

"Did you ever fight the Batman, Miss Mason?" He asked, turning to face her with his hands clasped behind his back. The white vest he wore showed the width of his chest and shoulders clearly, and his question made the room look more and more like a boxing ring to her. Instinctively, she made herself more aware of his movements, her muscles tensed and she wiggled her fingers.

"A couple of times with other people, once on my own." She replied honestly, her voice casual. He wasn't standing still anymore; he was walking round the perimeter of the circle very slowly. So she copied his movements, recognizing someone sizing her up when she saw it.

"How does he fight?"

"I won't lie, I couldn't beat him." She admitted, keeping an eye on him as they discretely circled one another.

"He beat you?" There was a tone of surprise and mild mocking in Bane's tone.

"No. I just didn't win."

"You're being rather cryptic." He replied, unclasping his hands from his back and bringing them to his front.

"Neither of us won, an... _unfortunate event_ occurred that became more pressing to the both of us." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Although, honestly, he was the strongest, best trained opponent I've ever faced."

"Do I detect a slight hint of respect there?"

"I'd be stupid not to." She shrugged. "So, was that the reason why you brought me down into the rancor's pit?"

Clearly he didn't get the reference, but answered her anyway.

"I thought you might want to stretch your legs?" He held out his arms jovially. "It's been a while since you exercised your skills." He stepped toward her, and she stepped toward him, refusing to be perturbed by his intimidatingly huge stature. "I brought you here, to hit me." He raised his fists, and adjusted his stance. She smirked, and did the same, the fists she made seeming pathetically small in comparison.

"Maybe I don't wanna hit you." She licked her lips. "Maybe you should hit me first." She tipped her weight onto her toes more so that she could bounce slightly on the spot. He didn't reply and she couldn't tell if he smiled all not, all she got was the low hiss of his mask as he exhaled.

She looked directly into his eyes, and there was a long moment in which neither moved nor spoke. This was broken when his left fist launched quickly toward her head, and she immediately ducked. It was a feign though, and as soon as she had bent her head, his right fist collided heavily with her gut. Winded, she almost doubled over, and reflexively clutched her stomach.

"Fuck." She hissed, staggering back.

"I was holding back that time. My next hit will not be so kind." He didn't sound particularly cruel or pleased, merely matter of fact and level.

"You punch like a fucking **_train_**." She forced herself to draw herself up again and ignore the pain, raising her fists again.

Bane didn't reply and got back into his stance. Evelyn did not like to be beaten, and got herself ready to truly begin the dance.

She let out a grunt of effort and aimed a heavy kick at Bane's stomach, which collided with his forearm block. He swung his fist in a this time genuine heavy punch to her head, which she swiftly dodged and countered with her left fist to his solar plexus, it felt like punching stone, but she heard his mask hiss loudly connoting he had felt it. Where she grunted and breathed heavily while they moved and dodged around each other, he barely made a noise, only the sound of his breath through his mask. Evelyn, knowing she had to be more special than usual skipped back, putting space between them so that he would have to come at her to do any damage to her. To her delight he did so, allowing her to use the slight momentum to skirt around him entirely, and send a hard hit to between his shoulder blades, and her foot collided with the back of his legs.

It was his turn to grunt, as he almost stumbled forward slightly. She fought off a giggle, finally enjoying getting into the swing of things.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" He asked when he turned to face her, feigning again experimentally, she fluidly moved to avoid, and tried her own; he mirrored her movement.

"I am." She swiped at his face but he batted her arm away easily. "And I know you're taking it easy on me but," he sent a right hook her way, and she impressively arched her back to avoid it, "this is a lot of fun all the same."

Bane saw in her eyes something he hadn't seen before; there was a sparkle of excitement there. Not only was she apparently very talented at what she did, she also seemed to very much enjoy it. He was surprised that his hit hadn't done more damage to her, while he'd held back from using his full strength it would certainly have been enough to floor some of the men upstairs. She made her actions look effortless too, as she moved swiftly on her feet around him, throwing her hair over her shoulder and caring not for the sheen of sweat building on her skin. The thought that it was quite becoming on her entered his mind before quickly departing again.

"I wouldn't like to be the one to piss you off." She grinned, practically hopping. Bane stepped forward, and Evelyn took the opportunity of his bent right leg to jump forward and put her boot on his thigh, put her hands on his shoulders and wrap her legs tightly round his middle. Even he did not expect that. She held out her arm and leaned backward.

"Ta daaaa!" She called, giggling, the two resembling an unconventional salsa dance pair.

It took Bane a genuine moment of confusion at their position before prying her legs from his waist and allowing her to fall on her back.

"Oof!" She let out, before laughing again, sitting up on the wet ground. "Is that any way to treat a lady?"

"If only you were as good a fighter as a comedian." He watched her get to her feet, and noticed her briefly touch her stomach, which he supposed must have been aching at that point.

"Lighten up handsome." She stretched her arms above her head. "So where you taking me for dinner?" She rubbed sweat of her forehead with the back of her hand.

"Yes, yes, very amusing." The two continued up the stairs; Evelyn started to feel an ache in her back. "This was not all I called you here for today."

Evelyn noticed that not one of the men had moved an inch since she and Bane had been downstairs. They had clearly been trained well, and it made her wonder just how much authority Bane held. He pulled out a metal chair from the table and took the one across from it. It was a gentlemanly gesture that Evelyn was unaccustomed to and that he seemed to perform unthinkingly. Trying not to seem surprised, she sat down, rested her elbow on the table and crossed her legs.

"So, what is it?" She asked.

"I am currently working on building relations with a man by the name of John Daggett. Do you know this man?" He sat forward, elbows on his knees and fingers clasped.

"John Daggett," she frowned, the name certainly ringing a bell. "John Daggett..." She rifled through her mental files of people. "Ooh! Yes, I've met him a couple of times actually at a few parties and shit. Rat faced little bastard, right?"

"Indeed." He let out a long breath; Evelyn felt the ventilated air tickle her arm. "Well, his involvement in some considerably significant areas of our future plans is becoming more and more necessary. However, in order for me to assure he can be remotely trusted I am going to need information on him of a more personal nature."

"You want me to get inside his house?" She asked, surprised at the simplicity of it.

"I would hardly need you to do that for me, Miss Mason." He seemed to almost laugh. "No. Daggett has a lapdog named Phillip Stryver, a young man with whom he divulges everything and withholds little to no information. I simply need you to gain access to the mobile phone he keeps always on his person and any materials in his home."

"And how do you expect me to do that?" She arched her eyebrow, though thought she probably already knew the answer. "By force or by _other_ means?" She wet her lips.

He looked at her. She did not seem phased by the suggestion. "A softer approach would be better at this point."

"I see," she replied and drummed her fingers on the table, a small smile in place.

"However," he sat up straight, "I would understand if you choose to decline."

Her smile almost disappeared; she cocked her head to the side.

"Really?" She asked, not bothering to hide her slight surprise.

"It is not in my nature to force a woman to partake in any intimate activity against her will, no matter the situation." He said it so simply, and yet she found it really quite honorable for a man in his position. The criminals she had known in the past, even the ones she had been intimate with, would not have given a second thought to pressuring her into doing something of this kind for the good of the plan. Bane had something different about him; he had a strange sort of dignity about him that she found strange. Maybe he was entirely false, maybe he was just like Falcone or Gambol. Evelyn could not really believe that though, if there was anything she could do well it was read a person; Bane was one of two unreadable men.

"Oh." Was all she replied.

* * *

**Hey everyone. **

**I really hope you liked this chapter and I'm genuinely sorry I left this story hanging so long. What with starting college and various other family things happening I just both didn't have the time and honestly the motivation to write. **

**I've got a little time off soon and then will be free all summer, so you can expect plenty more chapters to come. The next one will be up pretty soon, so please review and let me know you've not abandoned this, I've got big ideas for Evelyn. **

**Thank you for reading,**

- **EJ**


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